


Next Door

by Adanie_Josaeh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Dark Past, Developing Relationship, F/M, Harry is a shithead pass it around, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Neighbors, Papa Sandor, Past Abuse, Past Harrold Hardyng/Sansa Stark, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, think this is what we call lemons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 113,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adanie_Josaeh/pseuds/Adanie_Josaeh
Summary: Sansa's life has been a series of bad decisions concerning men.  But when she decides to take her daughter and leave her cheating fiancé, she has hope that things will turn around for the two of them.  As a single mother with a toddler, she knows things won't always be easy.  But she's determined to move past her heartbreak over Harry and finally overcome her past demons of abuse at the hands of Joffrey.  She just wants to put all of it behind her.But how can she do that when a ghost from her past resides next door?





	1. Here's to a new life

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dip into A Song of Ice and Fire fanfiction and my first post ever on AO3. I haven't actually posted fanfiction in ohhhh...about 17 years or so. Don't be mean though, because I'm aware my writing could be rusty and my poor heart can't handle bullies.
> 
> Also, the first chapter is really just the prologue and will be quite a bit shorter than the rest of the chapters. Also, chapter titles are really just lines from the chapter because I wanted something other than "chapter 1" and so on.
> 
> Anyway, here goes nothing...

Anxiety was building in her tummy, creeping its way up her throat, making her want to scream, but Sansa Stark fought it down, swallowing it like a bad pill. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the sleeping toddler, her blonde hair stuck to her forehead, her neck at an uncomfortable angle.  Her daughter’s chubby cheek rested on her shoulder, making it look even rounder. 

“Almost there,” Sansa said quietly, more to herself than Lyanna.

The roads that led into her new neighborhood curved this way and that until she found her way into the cul-de-sac where their new home awaited. Sansa had been able to rent a house for the two of them through her friend, Margaery Tyrell.  Margie had given her a much needed break on the rent and Sansa was grateful for the little bit of help.  She found her little blue house and pulled into the inclined drive-way.  She pulled to the side of Jon’s truck.  He and Robb had been here unloading boxes for her before she arrived.

 _Best brothers ever_ , she thought as she saw Robb’s head poke out the back door, his auburn curls gleaming like fire in the setting sun.  He waved to her before jogging out to her car.  Peeking in the backseat, he noticed his niece knocked out and immediately opened her door, intent on carrying her.  Sansa grinned to herself, thinking on Robb’s fondness for sleeping babies; it seemed he liked the cuteness and cuddles without the random violence that toddlers could inflict upon him.  While he was more than content to let his golden haired niece sleep on his chest, he was also compelled to disappear whenever she wanted to wrestle, which left Jon as the punching bag.

Sansa made her way inside, holding the door for Robb as he carried Lyanna, her face pressed against his chest, her little arms wrapped around his neck.

“You can put her on the couch,” Sansa told Robb in a low voice. “She’ll be fine until I can assemble the bed…”

Robb rolled his eyes at the same time Jon said, “Got it covered. It’s already up and ready for her.”

Sansa let out a sigh and immediately hugged Jon. “Thank you.  You guys are the best.”

“Of course, we are,” Robb said over his shoulder as he carried Lyanna through the kitchen towards her bedroom. “Don’t know what you’d do without us.”

Sansa looked back to Jon, feeling comforted by his warm eyes and sad smile. “I’m on your side.  You know that?”

Sansa snorted softly, “One would think that my whole family would be on my side, and yet…”

Jon shook his head, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “Catelyn is just worried about you.  She’ll come around.”

“Can’t believe you’re defending her,” Sansa muttered, knowing the hell Catelyn had made for Jon his entire childhood. Jon had been adopted by Ned Stark after Ned’s sister had died.  Catelyn hadn’t approved, so while Ned Stark was Jon’s father on paper, Catelyn had not consented to legally be his mother.  Catelyn made several claims over the years that Ned favored his nephew-turned-adopted-son more than his own biological children.  Ned had ignored her for the most part.  She’d only recently started to come round, treating him with civility rather than outright coldness.

Robb came back through the kitchen before Jon could answer announcing he had a date and it wasn’t Jon, so they needed to hit the road. Sansa hugged them both good-bye and settled into unpacking the endless boxes that her brothers hadn’t gotten around to doing.  Alone with her thoughts, the one question that plagued her was _how did it all come to this_?

Her life had been a series of bad choices and missteps and now she was left feeling defeated and stupid. She had always considered herself a smart girl, a pretty girl, a kind girl…but her reality had shifted years ago when she had begun dating her longtime crush, Joffrey Baratheon.  Handsome and rich with a good family name, Joffrey had always seemed like the perfect catch.  From a young age, Sansa had just _known_ that he was the one for her.  Their fathers had even grown up together as the best of friends.  So when Sansa finally, _finally_ caught the attention of the handsome, golden-haired Joffrey, she had been over the moon, couldn’t believe her own good fortune.  And at first, very early on, he had given her exactly what she wanted.

Joffrey had told her how beautiful she was. Joffrey had said all of the right things.  Joffrey had showered her with expensive gifts, and at sixteen years old, she thought she’d met her soul mate.  Teenagers never truly realize how dumb they are until after the fact and Sansa was no exception.  The bad had happened gradually.  It had happened so gradually that it took her much too long to notice that she was being abused:  mentally, emotionally, and, finally, physically. 

The worst part of the physical abuse hadn’t even been perpetrated at Joffrey’s hands, only by his commands. He had grabbed her, and pushed her, and slapped her before, but Joffrey was physically weak.  With a seemingly unlimited amount of money, his mother had saw fit to hire a security team for him.  Joffrey was in the habit of starting trouble and Cersei Baratheon wanted to make sure her golden child stayed safe.  It was one of his security team members that had inflicted the damage on that last night.  Barely conscious after the incident, she had been whisked away by another member of his security team, a huge mountain of muscle known as the Hound.

Though Sansa had been frightened of him for most of their acquaintance due to his ridiculous height, massive muscles, the terrible scars covering the left side of his face, and generally threatening demeanor, she had never been more thankful for him than that night. Though she didn’t remember it, later she would be told that he beat Meryn Trant to a pulp and told Joffrey fuck off.  After she recovered, Sansa had intentions to thank him for taking care of her, but she had no way of contacting him and she had never seen him again.

When Sansa had met Harry, she believed she had finally gotten lucky in love. After Joffrey’s cruelty, Harry’s easy smiles and tender treatment of her left her feeling light and happy, as though a weight that had been on her shoulders had been lifted and she could finally enjoy life.  Sansa saw Harry as her knight in shining armor, saving her from the crushing weight of depression she’d been left with after Joffrey.  His sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and dimples were the icing on the cake.  If she’d know that those charms and good looks would attract so many other women to a willing Harry, Sansa might have taken things much, much slower.  She might not have put her heart on the line at all.  But she’d fallen in love with Harry, and so when she learned of his transgressions, she had already been in too deep.  She practiced forgiveness first.  Then, she began to wonder if she was the one pushing him away.  She’d gone to counseling.  She’d pondered the idea of an open-relationship, thinking maybe it would make her more accepting of the kind of lifestyle Harry clearly wanted.  It only made her hate herself and resent Harry. 

The last straw had been when she found out that he’d met one of his women while her daughter slept in the car. Apparently, there hadn’t been any sex, but the woman had met Harry on her lunch break and the two had sat in Harry’s car for an hour while Lyanna had napped.  That had been a week ago, and now Sansa was sitting in her living room on her second-hand couch with a glass of wine clutched in her hand, wondering why she seemed to have a broken picker.

Maybe Joffrey had done so much damage to her self-esteem that she didn’t truly know what love looked like. Maybe she was so broken that Harry couldn’t cope with all of her baggage.  Sansa was unsure where she had found the strength to walk away, but despite her current circumstances, she felt a sense of pride.

 _I can do this. Just me and Lyanna.  I’ll take care of her and love her enough for the both of us_. 

Harry’s obvious disinterest his own child hurt Sansa most of all. It had caused countless arguments and it was the one topic on which Sansa had never relented.  She argued with Harry more about the lack of time he spent with his daughter than she did the time he did spend with his girlfriends.  And Lyanna, blonde haired, blue eyed, Lyanna, looked just like him. 

 _Here’s to a new life._ She tipped her wine glass to her mouth, finishing it off before making her way to her new room with a big empty bed where she’d be sleeping alone for the first time in years.

 


	2. Puppy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gifts Sansa a bit more chaos...like she needs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bit longer than the last one...I was going to try to save this til Sunday to post, but the little bit of feedback I've gotten is addictive and I like it :)

The next day, Sansa woke early and made her coffee, adding creamer until the liquid turned nearly white. Lyanna had slept through the night and Sansa decided to let her sleep a bit longer.  Soon enough she’d be dragging her out of bed to send her off to pre-school, just one more adjustment she’d have to make in this new life of theirs. 

A steady rain was falling, but Sansa knew it would do nothing to calm the late summer heat of the South. She stood in front of the large bay window that looked out on her front lawn and the street beyond that.  The houses in the neighborhood were old, but well-maintained with neat yards.  Margaery had told her that several of her neighbors were approaching elderly, and she saw this was true for the neighbor across the street.  A gentleman who looked to be in his early to mid-60s sat on his front porch swing with a mug in his hand and a small terrier in his lap.  At the house to her right, a woman perhaps a decade older than Sansa backed out of her driveway, waving at the elderly gentleman before driving off.  At the house to her left, she heard the unmistakable deep rumble of a motorcycle.

She took a step closer to the left side of the window, watching as the motorcycle rolled down the driveway, carrying a huge figure in a black tank top and jeans who dwarfed the machine beneath him. He didn’t seem to mind the rain, but Sansa imagined it was already hot enough that the drops would feel good against the exposed skin of his shoulders.  Sansa couldn’t help but admire the huge, muscled arms of her neighbor and didn’t even feel much shame at gawking at him, since he couldn’t see her after all.  The rider also gave a wave to the elderly gentleman before speeding off.

Sansa felt a smile tug at her mouth, acknowledging to herself that her neighbor reminded her of another huge, hulking figure with impressive muscles. She often wondered what had happened to Sandor Clegane.  He had disappeared after that last beating and she had been too embarrassed to tell her parents that she wanted to track him down.  Ned had been curious as to where her savior had gone as well, and likely would have helped Sansa locate him; but Catelyn had said _good riddance_ and had told Sansa that a clean break was best. 

_“He was one of Joffrey’s bullies,_ ” Catelyn had said.  _“It’s better to leave all that where it belongs: in the past.  How many times did he stand by and watch Joffrey abuse you?”_

Sansa hadn’t argued with her mother, but later when she really thought about it, she only recalled one time when the Hound had been present for her abuse other than that final night. Joffrey had smacked her around mostly in privacy.  The first time that Joff had made the decision to get Meryn Trant to hit her instead, the Hound had been elsewhere.  When he had walked in on the beating, he had bellowed _“Enough!”_

Joffrey had been furious and demanded that the Hound take her home since _“You want to play nanny to her.”_

Sansa remembered being frightened of the rage emanating from the colossal man sitting opposite her in the small car. His hand had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.  His jaw had been clenched so tight that Sansa was amazed that he hadn’t broken his own teeth.  He hadn’t said a word to her until he’d pulled up at her family home and muttered _“Get out girl, you’re safe now.”_

Sansa knew that he must have thought her the stupidest girl that ever existed. She had almost expected him to lecture her about knowing better than to anger Joffrey, knowing better than to stay with someone who would hit her, or any combination of the two.  But he hadn’t said a word, and Sansa realized he likely didn’t care about her as much as making sure Joffrey stayed out of trouble. That’s what he was hired for anyway.

The sound of little feet padding on the wooden floor drew Sansa out of her memories. She turned to see Lyanna, standing at the entrance to the small living room, still wearing her clothes from yesterday, her hair sticking in several different directions.

“Good morning, Princess,” Sansa said gently, going to kneel in front of her toddler.

Lyanna blinked sleepily. “I want something to eat.”  Sansa smiled at her sweet little voice, the lilt in it making it sound more like a question than a statement.

Sansa kissed a round cheek and told her to go potty while she found Lyanna some clothes. They had no groceries at the moment other than Sansa’s coffee, so she resolved to take her to the fast food restaurant down the street for some hash browns.  She chose a little red romper that tied at the shoulders and put Lyanna’s golden blonde hair into matching pigtails.

“Hard to potty,” Lyanna complained when Sansa had her dressed.

“Well, that’s why I’ll help you, grouchy pants,” Sansa smiled at her. “You want to go get hash browns?”

The mention of greasy fast food perked Lyanna up considerably. She took Sansa’s hand into her own tiny one and started pulling her towards the door.  “I ready to go!”

“Wait, I have to get dressed too!” Sansa giggled.

Not long afterward, Sansa sat across from her daughter watching her eat her hash browns while she nibbled at a sausage biscuit. She had so much today that the mere thought of it all exhausted her.  She dug a pen and notebook out of her purse and set to making a list:  groceries, unpacking, registering Lyanna for preschool, getting schools supplies for the both of them…

She didn’t start her classes or her new job at the university until next week, which she was thankful for since she had so much to do still. Her phone rang, bringing her away from her busy thoughts.  She glanced down at the screen and saw that it was Harry and groaned.  Lyanna glanced up at the noise, but said nothing as she poked food into her little mouth.  Sansa rejected the call and threw her phone back into her purse.

Harry had never taken much interest in Lyanna. He was happy to show pictures of the smiling, charming toddler on his phone to anyone who would take a look, but when it came to actually being present in her life, Harry mostly failed.  It seemed to Sansa that he wanted to put on a façade as being a good, doting father without putting in the work.  As a result, it had been five days since Sansa and her daughter had left, and Lyanna hadn’t even mentioned Harry, though she frequently asked about all of her uncles and “My Arry”. 

Sansa had a long day of unpacking while Lyanna dug her toys out of boxes and made a general mess of her bedroom, but it kept her busy while Sansa worked to put her house in order. She went grocery shopping and filled up the cart while Lyanna rode in the front, demanding this snack or that kind of juice box.  By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, Sansa was exhausted again.

She bathed Lyanna and was getting her ready for bed when her doorbell rang. Lyanna sped off to the front door and waited for Sansa to open it.  Arya greeted them when the door opened, dressed in cutoff shorts and a black tank, she was struggling to hang on to a squirming puppy, whose sharp little toenails were scraping against her bare arms and legs.

“My Arry!!” Lyanna screeched, jumping up and down. “You have a doggy?!”

Arya moved the puppy to her left arm and scooped Lyanna up with her right. “What’s up, Squirt?  What do you think of the doggy?”

Sansa ushered her sister into the house and closed the door behind her. Arya sat both puppy and child down in the living room floor and watched as Lyanna attempted to shower the little thing with kisses, while it in turn tried to lick her.

“How’s it going, San?”

Sansa shrugged a shoulder. “Busy.  I think I’ve almost got everything in order though.  I start work and class next week.  What made you decide to get another puppy?”

“Oh, that. Gendry’s old feist mix had puppies.  We’ve managed to find homes for most of them, but this little girl is the runt.  I’ve just been bringing her with me everywhere.  I’ve been hiding her since I’ve already had to pay an outrageous pet deposit for Nymeria.  Can’t afford another one and Gendry can’t really care for a puppy.”

“Nymeria would probably hate this little pup,” Sansa observed. Nymeria was Arya’s husky and was undeniably a spoiled brat.  Sansa had once been the proud owner of Nymeria’s litter mate, Lady, but she had been hit by a car shortly after Lyanna was born.  Sansa still missed her.

“Oh, she does. Know anyone that might want her?”

Lyanna squealed then, yelling, “I want the puppy. I take the puppy!”

Sansa rolled her eyes and glared at her sister, knowing that Arya had probably wanted to gift Lyanna the pup to begin with. Arya gave her a wicked smirk, but said to Lyanna.  “That’s up to your mom, Squirt.”

Sansa bent down to lift the puppy into her arms and was immediately rewarded with slobbery licks to the face. The pup’s back was black, but her belly and paws were white.  The markings on her face seemed to form a little mask, with her pointy little nose being white, scattered with freckle-like spots, and her floppy ears and eyes being black.  Her black tail curled up toward her back and ended in a little white tip.  Her slender body was so long that she almost looked like a dachshund, except her legs were long and skinny too.  Sansa knew she probably didn’t need any more chaos in her life, but Lyanna was staring at the puppy, eyes wide with excitement, her little hands opening and closing in anticipation of getting her hands back on the dog.

“What would we name her, Lya?” Sansa asked her daughter.

Lyanna tilted her head to the side thoughtfully and tapped a chubby finger against her chin. “Pupcake?”

Arya snorted and Sansa giggled, before saying, “How about we sleep on it and talk about some names tomorrow?”

“Can she sleep in my bed?”

Sansa sat the puppy down and it immediately attacked Lyanna with kisses. “I’ve got her some puppy pads in the car.  She’s already really good about using them.  Smart girl,” Arya offered, leaning down to ruffle Lyanna’s still-wet hair.

“Alright,” Sansa sighed in resignation. “She can sleep with you, but if she whines to get up, you have to let her up to use the bathroom.  Don’t squeeze her too tight or she might pee on your bed!” Sansa joked.

Lyanna looked horrified and stared down at her newest friend. “Pupcake, you can’t wet the bed.  Momma, she needs Pull-Ups!”

Sansa giggled again, watching the two toddlers who were already so fond of one another. She shot Arya another death glare as she came back in with the puppy pads, but Arya didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

“Puppy love,” Arya said, smirking at her sister.

When Lyanna was tucked into bed with her puppy, Sansa and Arya went out to sit on the porch.

“So, has fuck-face called you?” Arya said conversationally.

“He called earlier,” Sansa answered, not even willing to deny that she knew who Arya was talking about. “I didn’t answer.”

“Good for you. Fuck him, anyway.”  At Sansa’s warning glance, Arya rolled her eyes.  “Hey, I waited til the Squirt was in bed.  It’s hard enough censoring myself when she’s around, don’t make me start doing it for you too.”

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Sansa asked quietly, gazing across the street as the lights began flicking off at the elderly man’s house. _He must go to bed early_ , Sansa thought. 

“Probably because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and the small piece of his brain that’s not a complete dumbass has finally realized that. What about Lyanna?  Is she holding up alright?”

Sansa nodded. “I think she’s okay.  She liked the few nights we stayed with Mom and Dad.  I think she misses her old room…”

“And Harry?”

“She hasn’t mentioned him at all.” It embarrassed Sansa to admit that.  Whatever else he was, Harry was still Lyanna’s dad.  It was unsettling to think that Lyanna didn’t even miss him.

“Sansa, this is the best thing for the both of you. You realize that, right?”

Sansa dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know, Arya.  I’ve never really been on my own.  Even if Harry wasn’t there a lot, he still came home every night.  I still had the reassurance that someone was there to help me if I stumbled.”

Arya was quiet for a moment. Sansa finally looked up into her sister’s grey eyes.  They looked almost black in the fading light.  “Sansa, you’ve done your fair share of stumbling, even before Harry.  You’ve stumbled and picked yourself right back up.  Don’t give him credit where he hasn’t earned it.”

***

The next day, Sansa set about setting up her all of her sewing equipment. She had a couple of sewing machines, as well as a monogramming machine, and she thought she could possibly make some money on the side.  Sansa had made most of Lyanna’s clothes, basing the designs off outfits she’d seen in children’s boutiques and then adding her own flare to it.  Lyanna’s outfits always received compliments and Sansa thought to try her hand at making some money off her talent. 

Lyanna and Pupcake were playing in the living room as Sansa set up her equipment in her new “sewing room”. In reality, the room where she’d do her work was the formal dining room.  Since it was just the two of them, Sansa had set up her small dining table in the large den at the back of the house.  The back room was large enough to act as the main living area, as well as a small dining area.  It had been added on sometime after the house had been built, Sansa could tell that much, but she preferred the extra room as the front living room was too small for anything but a loveseat and the dining room was too spacious for two people who’d likely be eating a lot of take-out.

There were three doors leading into the house: a front door, a side door that opened onto a small porch off the front living room, and the door that led onto the deck in the back.  Sansa had been using the side door and had noted that the storm door was hard to shut.  She had made a mental note to get Robb to look at it when he dropped by, but hadn’t given much thought to it otherwise.

Until her toddler and her dog decided to escape.

Sansa had been tidying up her sewing room, having finally finished getting everything organized when she realized that she could no longer hear giggles and yipping in the background. She peered into the living room and called for Lyanna.  There was no answer. 

Getting to her feet, she stumbled into the living room and turned to the side door, which was cracked open. Her heart plummeted to her stomach.  Fear threatened to freeze her, but she willed herself to move quickly and burst through the door, yelling, “LYANNA!”

Her daughter wasn’t on the porch. She hurried down the steps, looking towards the small front yard, but saw no sign of them.  She turned back on her heel and sprinted down the sloped driveway, screaming her baby’s name.  Fear had her in its clutches.  A wave of nausea hit her so hard she doubled over at the end of the driveway, hands on her knees, as she imagined all of the terrible things that could be happening to her child.  She righted herself, looking first right, then left down her quiet little road. 

_I have to call the police,_ she thought wildly.

As she was turning back to the house, she heard, “Hiiii! I’m over here!” and nearly collapsed in relief.  Her whole body trembled as she ran back up the driveway, her eyes never leaving the little figure who was waving her arm madly from the next-door neighbor’s porch.  When she made it to the porch, Lyanna dove into her arms.

“You scared me to death! You’re not to leave the house without me again!” Sansa felt Pupcake jumping up onto her legs and was glad the dog was okay too.

“Sorry,” Lyanna shrugged and did look a bit ashamed.

Sansa pressed kisses to Lyanna’s sweaty little face, thankful that she was okay and only vaguely registering that she stood in the shadow of her huge neighbor. She turned to him to ask what had happened, or maybe thank him, or maybe demand why he hadn’t brought her daughter right back as soon as she was discovered…but all words flew out of her mind when her eyes met his silver grey ones.

His arms were crossed over his muscled chest and his eyes were narrowed at her, though not so much in anger as in scrutiny. When he spoke, his voice was the same deep rasping rumble that she remembered from years ago.

Sandor Clegane quirked an eyebrow at her dumbfounded expression, and without smiling, greeted her. “Hey there, Little Bird.”


	3. Was that the motherfucking Hound?

Sansa would have gasped in shock, but the deep breath rattled all the way down her chest and into her stomach, creating a queer noise that sounded as though she were choking.  Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open.  She had never truly been good at hiding her expressions, nor had she ever been very good at quick recoveries when something surprised her.  Perhaps Sandor remembered that because he just stood there, not saying anything as she waited for her brain to catch up with her eyes, though he looked mildly impatient.

Finally, she found her voice.  “Mr. Clegane!”  It came out as a squeak.

He cleared his throat and finally looked away from her.  “Sandor,” he said.  “Who’s this?”  He indicated the little blonde in her arms.

Lyanna blinked up at the giant, seemingly unperturbed by his size and his scars.  She gave him a sweet smile.

“Lyanna.  Her name is Lyanna.  She’s my daughter,” Sansa explained, pushing away the hair that stuck to her daughter’s forehead. 

When she glanced up at him, his eyebrows had shot up as he looked between her and the toddler.  He nodded once then and looked down to where Pupcake was now jumping on his legs.  “This your dog too?”

Sansa nodded.  “Down, Pupcake!”  The puppy didn’t listen of course.  Sandor bent down to pick up the puppy, who looked much smaller in his huge hands. 

“Pupcake?” He gave her a disbelieving look and his lips twitched.  It looked like he may be fighting a smirk.

“Lyanna named her,” Sansa said weakly.  _Of course the first person who would meet my dog named Pupcake would be_ this _guy,_ Sansa thought wryly.  “So, you live here?” Sansa asked, indicating the house behind him.  _Dumb question, genius_.

He nodded. 

“I live next door,” she said, unnecessarily.  He looked at her evenly, appearing almost bored.  _At least that much hasn’t changed_.  “Anyway, thanks for…finding her.”

“She found me,” Sandor said, his silver-grey eyes flicking to the girl.  “A bit young to be running around on her own.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open again.  “I…she wasn’t…. she just…”

He turned his eyes back to her, seemingly waiting for her explanation, but not appearing to be overly concerned with the answer.

Sansa snapped her mouth closed and took a deep breath, shifting Lyanna’s weight to her hip.  “The door was left open by mistake.”

“Should probably be more careful about making sure it’s closed,” he rasped.

“I…should, yes, but I don’t just let her run around…”

He nodded again, just once, then deposited the puppy into her free hand, and turned back to his own house.

“Byyyyyeeee, Mister!” Lyanna called. 

He turned back around, his hand on the door, and gave Lyanna a small wave and what could pass as a smile, then disappeared inside.

Sansa lugged puppy and toddler back to her own house and made sure the door was firmly closed behind them.  She prepared Lyanna’s lunch and as she watched her daughter gobble up a grilled cheese, she stewed on what he’d said. 

_What makes him think I_ let _her out by herself?  He doesn’t know me!_

On the other hand, she had somehow allowed her toddler and her puppy to escape right out from under her nose.  But he didn’t know her situation!  Sansa was torn between thinking his observation was justified and thinking that he was being too judgmental.  And to think, the day before she had been wondering what had happened to him when it turned out he was the same grouchy, unfriendly ass he’d always been. 

Arya arrived around the time that Lyanna laid down for her nap to check on the puppy, and while her sister played with Pupcake, Sansa decided she was going to set the record straight.

“You mind waiting here with Lyanna while I run next door?” She asked.

Arya shrugged and she played tug-o-war with Pupcake over a rope toy.  “Do whatever you gotta do while I’m here.  What’s next door?”

Sansa would explain later; for now, she said, “A pain in my ass.”

She slipped on her flipflops and stomped across the driveway and up his porch.  She could see through the storm door that the front door was cracked and the sounds of hard rock could be heard from the porch.  She pushed in on his door bell and waited.

The heavy door swung open, then Sansa stepped back to allow him to open the screen door.  He looked her up and down, not in a creepy way, but more of an assessing way.  “What?” he rasped.

“Listen, I think you might have gotten the wrong impression about what happened with my daughter.”

“Oh?” It was said with zero interest and no facial expression.  Sansa found herself getting irritated at his bored tone.

“Yes,” she said firmly.  “I wouldn’t let my daughter just wander off by herself...willingly.  The door is difficult to close, you see…and it’s a new house so I haven’t gotten used to all its little quirks.”

“Okay,” he was looking over her head now, as if the empty street was of more interest to him than her explanation.

“I just thought I needed to clarify that I am _not_ a negligent mother.  I was working and they were playing, and then…” She lifted her arms in resignation. 

“Could happen to anyone,” he said, almost hesitantly, as though he didn’t really believe that.

Sansa stood there, staring up at him, unsure of what else to say but feeling quite aggravated still.  She didn’t know why she felt the need to justify herself to him, especially when he didn’t seem to care one way or the other. 

“Well, I just didn’t want you to think that I just left her alone…”

“Where is she now?”  He cut her off, eyes narrowing at her before glancing towards her house and raising a brow.

“With my sister,” Sansa ground out, fully glaring at him now.  Arya’s car was clearly parked in the driveway behind her own.  Was he just trying to agitate her?

Some seconds passed in which she continued to glare and he regarded her coolly, before he said in a voice that sounded a bit like a growl, “Is she Joffrey’s?”

Sansa suppressed a shudder at the name.  She shook her head vigorously and huffed out a humorless laugh.  “No.  Thank the Gods, no!  She’s…she’s not even three years old yet.  Not for another few weeks.”  It had been over five years since Sandor had carried her away from Joffrey for good.

“Good thing,” he muttered.

Suddenly, Sansa remembered how much she had wanted to track him down after her injury.  She remembered how grateful she’d been that he’d whisked her away before Joffrey or Meryn could kill her.  “About Joffrey,” she said suddenly.  His eyes snapped to hers then and for the first time, she seemed to have his full attention.  “After…that night….I wanted to find you.  I wanted to _thank_ you,” she said in earnest.  “If it hadn’t been for you, he might have…I don’t know.  I always thought he might have killed me.  Perhaps that’s dramatic of me, but I was so scared.  Sorry to ramble on like this, but…”

“Stop the chirping,” he said irritably.  “You were right.  He could have killed you.  Or more accurately, he could have had Trant kill you.”

Sansa felt another shiver try to creep down her spine, but she shook it off.  _They’re dead now,_ she reminded herself.  _Both of them are dead and can never hurt me again._

“Anyway, I just really wanted to thank you for everything you did for me,” Sansa reached out and touched his arm where it was crossed over his muscled chest.  “Not just that night either.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.  “Yes, I’m sure you’re eternally grateful to me for letting them beat you.  Look, I have to catch a nap before work.  Did you need anything else?”

Sansa jerked her hand back, and knowing a dismissal when she heard one, she shook her head and stepped back so he could close the door. 

_Still a grouchy ass,_ Sansa thought to herself. _Some things never change._

Arya was standing on the little porch smoking a cigarette when Sansa made her way back to her house.  Her sister was glaring in the direction of the neighboring house, and without looking at Sansa said, “Was that the motherfucking Hound?”

“Arya!” Sansa admonished, turning quickly to make sure that Sandor hadn’t come back out on the porch.  “Language!”

Arya rolled her eyes and shrugged a slender shoulder.  “From what I remember, he’s not terribly scared of the ‘f’ word.  So…that’s really him, then?”

Sansa nodded as she came to stand by her sister on the porch, waving her hand in a pathetic effort to clear away the cigarette smoke.  “Lyanna snuck out earlier with the dog.  She paid him a visit, it seems.”

“Seven hells, you need to talk to your kid about who she keeps company with,” Arya took a long drag off her cigarette.  “Did Pupcake at least give him a nibble?”

“No, Pupcake seemed quite fond of him.  Anyway, he’s not the point.  The point is I’m a terrible mother for letting my child escape from the house at all.  He certainly seems to think so.”

Arya leveled a look at her.  “Who gives a flying fuck what the Hound thinks?  The closest he’s ever gotten to parenting is watching over Joffrey and you saw how well that worked out.”

“He saved my life,” Sansa said quietly, not sure why this conversation was continuing, but feeling the need to both justify and vilify Sandor for some strange reason.

“So dramatic,” Arya complained.  “If he had been keeping Joffrey out of trouble, like he was hired to do, it never would have gotten to the point that your life was in danger.”

Sansa said nothing to that, but felt Arya was being unfair.  It wasn’t Sandor’s fault that Joffrey was a monster.  Sansa pushed past her into the house.  Arya stood outside a few moments longer, finishing her cigarette while Sansa piddled about in her sewing room.

“So,” Arya said upon re-entry.  “This job you landed, does it have anything to do with sewing?”

Sansa shook her head.  “Unfortunately, no.  I had to find somewhere that would be flexible with my school schedule.  I’m working part-time as an office assistant on campus for one of the business admin professors.  I’ve got it worked out perfectly for this semester.  All of my classes are over by 11:00 a.m.  It’s a small campus, so I only have about a five minute walk to work.  My hours will be 11:00 to 3:00 p.m.  There’s a little after-school program that the pre-school has that goes until 5:00 p.m.  So if I have anything I need to take care of after Lya gets out at 3 and after I get off work, I have time enough to take care of it.  I don’t know if it will work out next semester, but it all fell into place for now.  I’ll worry about the rest later.”  Sansa was fidgeting with some spare fabric when she looked up and found Arya watching her.

“Bullshit, Sansa,” Arya looked at her levelly.  “I know you, and I know you’re probably squirming at the thought of not having the next several months planned out.  Listen, I can’t help with your school schedule or your work schedule, but I’ll help as much as I’m able.  My work schedule is hectic and Gendry just got a new job working late at night, but…look, between the two of us, we’ll do all we can.”  Arya was the only one in her family that lived near her in Rosby.  The rest were in King’s Landing.

Sansa gave her sister a wobbly smile, trying her damnedest not to shed grateful tears.  She went to hug Arya, but her sister instinctively stepped back, always wary of being touched.  Then, she acquiesced and allowed Sansa a quick hug while she awkwardly patted her older sister’s back.

“We Starks stick together,” Arya reminded her.  “The pack survives, Big Sister.  Don’t forget it.”

That night, as Sansa cuddled with Pupcake, who had wanted to escape Lyanna’s suffocating snuggles for one night, she was startled by her phone going off with a text.  She plucked it from her nightstand and felt her stomach drop when saw that it was Harry.  Reluctantly, she opened the message.

**Harry:  Hey babe just checking on u.  U won’t return my calls.  U been ok?**

**Harry:  sansa, dammit, just talk to me.  I didn’t call bc I don’t want to overwhelm u.  Don’t I deserve some communication?**

**Harry:  how is lyana?**

The misspelling of his own daughter’s name prompted Sansa into action as she furiously typed a response.

_Sansa:  *LYANNA.  Don’t you think you should at least spell your child’s name correctly??  Seven’s sake, Harry, she’s nearly three years old!_

**Harry:  calm the fuck down, sansa.  It was a typo.  I know how to spell her name.  U knew what I meant, didn’t u?**

_Sansa:  She’s fine.  She hasn’t even asked about you._

After she pressed send, Sansa immediately felt guilt for that particular jab, but it was the truth.  Lyanna hadn’t once asked where her daddy was.  Sansa was regretting sending it, thinking of apologizing when her phone lit up with his reply.

**Harry:  She’s 2.  It’s not as though she knows a lot about the passage of time.  Stop trying to use her to insult me.**

_Sansa:  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!  She’s not stupid, Harry.  I’m not using her against you at all.  Tell me something, why has she asked about half of my family that she hasn’t seen in the last few days, but hasn’t asked about you when you’ve been out of her life for over a week!  Tell me._

**Harry:  I didn’t contact u to start a fight.  We can talk when u r calmer.**

“I AM CALM!” Sansa screeched as she tossed the phone across the room, startling Pupcake out of her slumber.  Sansa didn’t miss the irony of her outburst, but couldn’t quite bring herself to care either.  Deciding that she didn’t have the energy to retrieve her phone, she flicked off her bedside lamp, sunk down into her bed, pulled the covers over her head, and then cried herself to sleep, Pupcake snuggling into her for comfort.


	4. Puppies are people too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter
> 
> In which our favorites butt heads again, and an olive branch of sorts is offered...

Sansa didn’t hear from Harry again in the few days before class started. Lyanna’s third birthday was only two weeks away, but as she put her on the bus sending her off to “Three School”, a preschool for three year olds, she did worry that Lyanna was still too young.

She didn’t have much of a choice really as regular daycare was far too expensive for her meager budget and Harry hadn’t lifted a finger to help. Ned had offered to pay for any assistance Sansa needed with school or rent or Lyanna’s child care, but Sansa’s pride would not allow her to accept her father’s assistance at the age of twenty-three.  If she had to struggle all the way through school on her own coin, it would be that much more meaningful when she was finally able to finish her degree.  Between Joffrey and Harry, school had been put on the backburner for too long already.

When her classes for the day were done, Sansa made her way to the College of Business, where she would assist Professor Petyr Baelish with whatever he deemed necessary. Sansa had only met him a handful of times before her interview, but apparently he had been a close childhood friend of her mother, Catelyn.  After the interview, Baelish had hired her on the spot.  Sansa had only thought it odd later when she came off the high provided by the relief of finding a job so soon.  Sansa was a business major, sure, and she had always thought herself very professional, but she was also aware that Professor Baelish had had several more interviews scheduled after hers.

Sansa crept to his office and knocked on the partially closed door. She pushed it open when she heard him call, “Come in!”

“Good morning, Professor,” she said brightly. Baelish was sitting at his desk, relaxed back in his chair when she walked in.  He was around her mother’s age.  His dark hair was interrupted by grey at his temples and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee. 

Baelish looked up and his mouth pulled into a sideways smile. He stood and came around the desk.  “Ah, Sansa Stark.  Excited for your first day?”

Sansa nodded. “Is there anything specific you want me to do?”

There was a moment in which he didn’t answer, but his eyes fell from Sansa’s face and traced a line all the way down her body and back up again. Sansa pushed away the uneasy feeling it gave her and forced a smile.

“For now, I just need you to type up my syllabus and make about two-hundred copies of it.” He handed her a piece of yellow, lined paper with instructions scribbled neatly.  “After today, you will be assisting me with grading papers and inserting grades into the computer.  The first few days are always slow when classes are back in session, but after the first few weeks, these four hours will fly by so quickly that it will seem that we hardly see enough of one another.”

Not sure of what to say to that, Sansa just smiled and nodded, then made her way to her little corner of the office to begin work on the syllabus. The day drug on more slowly than she hoped due to not having a lot to do just yet, so Sansa was glad to see the clock hit 3:00.  She only briefly paused at the door at the end of her shift to introduce herself to her relief, a woman several years older than her named Ros, before hurrying out the door.

As she had no errands to run, she went immediately to pick up Lyanna from “Three School”. Once her daughter was strapped in her carseat, Sansa listened to her chatter about her first day of school.  Apparently Lyanna being the youngest in her class hadn’t fazed her in the slightest and she seemed fond of school.

“I’m ready to see Pupcake,” she told Sansa, pushing blonde hair from her eyes that escaped from her pigtails. “She missed me.”

Sansa had let Pupcake stay in the fenced backyard throughout the day. She had worried it may be too hot, but the backyard was well-shaded by huge trees and Sansa had left her plenty of water.  “I’m sure she did miss you, Baby.  We’ll have to get her some treats for being such a good girl while we were away.”

However, when Sansa pulled into the driveway, she was shocked to see her large neighbor leaning over the fence between their yards, scratching Pupcake’s head as she stood on her hind legs, her front paws on the fence. There was a massive black Great Dane sitting calmly next to him, panting in the hot sun.  Sansa parked, retrieved Lyanna from her carseat and let her into the backyard.  Sandor looked up at her to see her studying him.

“She made a friend,” Sandor said by way of explanation, indicating his large dog. “She got under the fence over there in the corner.  Found her out here chasing Stranger.”

Sansa blinked in confusion, looking from tiny little Pupcake to the monster that was Sandor’s dog. “ _She_ was chasing _him_?”

Sandor nodded. “He didn’t seem to mind.”

Sansa entered the backyard and examined the fence. Sure enough, there was a spot in the corner where a small hole had been dug where the chain-link didn’t touch the ground.  Pupcake would’ve fit underneath it easily.  She frowned, wondering how she was going to fix this.

As if he’d read her mind, Sandor said, “I’ll fix it. Likely Stranger’s doing anyway.”

Sansa looked up at him, giving him a thankful smile, and was about to express as much in words, when he said, “But you shouldn’t leave your dog outside in this heat.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she had to fight every urge to glare at him.

“It was over one-hundred degrees today and your dog was outside for over eight hours,” he admonished.

“I can’t be with her every second of the day,” Sansa said, fighting to stay calm.

“No, you can’t,” Sandor agreed, “But you could keep her inside.”

Sansa knew that she should turn around and go in the house rather than take his bait, but for some reason she just couldn’t resist it. “She’s two months old.  She would make a mess in the house.  Any solution for that?”

Sandor shrugged, looking at her as if the answer was obvious. “Training?  Crate?  You could just let her make a mess.  That’s better than coming home to a dead dog.”

Lyanna’s head snapped up at that and her mouth popped open. Sansa gave her neighbor a murderous look before stomping over and grabbing Lyanna up, even as she held onto Pupcake’s middle.

“What I do with my dog isn’t your business,” Sansa snapped, turning on her heel and trudging to her back door.

Sansa fumed as she prepared supper for herself and Lyanna. She was struggling enough without her asshole neighbor butting in.  Most days she felt like she was barely hanging on.  Apparently, Clegane found it necessary to ridicule her child-parenting and pet-parenting choices.

_Does he think I don’t realize what a screw up I am?_ Sansa smashed down the grilled cheese with her spatula, pretending it was Sandor’s stupid head.

As the anger ebbed, Sansa felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn with the promise of tears. She looked into the family room to see Lyanna trying to teach Pupcake to play fetch.  Lyanna would throw the ball and Pupcake would look at her dumbly before Lyanna ran to retrieve the ball herself.  Sansa managed a small smile, but Sandor’s words kept coming back to her.  He was right.  It was much too hot outside for her little pup to stay so long.  She hated, _hated_ admitting to herself that he was right.  But the worst thing that could happen was coming home to a puppy who suffered a heat stroke.

Sansa and Lyanna ate their supper, then Lyanna decided she wanted to go draw on the back patio with chalk. Toddler, pup, and Sansa sat outside, the heat still suffocating, the sun still glaring down though it was after 6:00 p.m.  It was so different in the South than it was back in the North.  The heat was inescapable.  There were days in the winter time that were warmer than the hottest days Winterfell had seen.

Though her family still owned the property, the Starks hadn’t been to Winterfell as a family in years, not since her father had moved the whole family to King’s Landing to work with his old friend, Robert Baratheon. Occasionally, a couple of the Starks would return to the family home to make sure it was being kept up, but for the most part, the sprawling, ancient homestead was deserted save for a handful of servants.

Sansa heard the back door open at Sandor’s house and he walked out with his huge dog, seemingly to let him potty again. She glared at him for a moment, and then sighed and turned away.  Pupcake scampered over to the fence, yipping at Stranger.  Stranger wandered over, sniffing her through the fence, but not barking back, seemingly much calmer than the excited puppy. 

Sandor watched the exchange from his back porch, not looking at Sansa. Lyanna followed Pupcake over and waved at Sandor, just as she had when he’d headed back into her house after finding her the day she snuck out.  With a heavy sigh, Sansa pushed herself out of the folding chair and followed Lyanna down to the fence.  She crossed her arms over her chest and schooled her expression into one of calm and rationale.

“Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she began, glancing up only to make sure he was listening.

He had turned his head toward her, but was looking at Pupcake rather than Sansa.

“I know you didn’t _mean_ to be a complete ass,” here she paused in case he wanted to argue, but he simply sat there, waiting for her to finish.  “I suppose I’m a bit defensive about my personal decisions right now and I feel like everyone is attacking me if I take one misstep, but… you were right.  About Pupcake.  She shouldn’t have been left outside.  Puppies are people too.”

Sandor finally met her eyes, if only to give her a look which suggested how annoying he thought her to be.

Sansa groaned, asking herself why in the Seven she kept trying to be friendly with him. Not one to give up so easily, she plowed on.  “So, what do you do with Stranger while you’re out?”

Sandor gave a jerk of his head towards his house. “Dog door.  He can get out any time he wants and he’s safe because of the fence.”

“Oh. Don’t have one of those,” she mumbled, looking down at Pupcake.

Sandor cleared his throat, looked away, and said something she couldn’t discern.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t catch that…”

He sighed as though he was a long-suffering victim of her stupidity. “I said, I can install one for you.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open and she blinked in surprise. She couldn’t quite believe he was offering to do something nice.  “That’s…thoughtful of you.  It’s just…I can’t really afford any renovations at the moment, no matter how small…”

“I’ll take care of it,” he cut her off, standing from his seat on the top step. He lifted his arms above his head, stretching his long limbs, and Sansa found her eyes drawn again to the defined cuts in his bicep, then to the bit of skin peaking from beneath his tee shirt that revealed a flat, muscular stomach.  She shook her head to try and get ahold of herself.

Before she could protest him spending any money on her, he had started back into his house. She called out, “Wait!”

He didn’t stop moving, just called back to her, “Gotta go to work, Little Bird. We’ll talk about it later.”

Within a few minutes, after she had Lyanna and the puppy back in the house, she heard his motorcycle engine rumble to life and watched him drive away, wondering how to interpret his sudden and unexpected bout of kindness. Because that’s what it was.  Maybe it was kindness only geared toward Pupcake and ensuring that she didn’t cook in the hot summer sun, but it was kindness nonetheless.

Sansa felt a smile tug at her lips. _You aren’t such a beast, after all, are you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, the rating will be changed due to more mature content. Don't know if it will be mature or explicit because I struggle with how I'm supposed to rate things, but...here's the warning if anyone needs it.


	5. Are you against mothers patronizing your business?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More misunderstandings and we get into Sandor's head for the first time.

The next day after Sansa had gotten home with Lyanna, she was surprised by a knock on her side door, the one Lyanna had previously escaped from. She opened the heavy wooden door and saw Sandor standing on her porch, looking a bit awkward. She opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch.

“When would you like me to install the dog door?” No preamble with him, obviously. He was straight to the point.

“Oh, well, I’ll be gone in the mornings and home around this time every day, except on the weekends. Are you free in the evenings?”

He shrugged. “I usually have to be at work around 7:00 p.m. Might be better if I do it Saturday. Won’t be pushed for time as much.”

Sansa nodded. “That sounds good.” He was already turning to go, when Sansa said, “I want to thank you for offering to do this. I kept her inside today and she used the bathroom all over the house. She is normally good with her puppy pads, but…”

“Probably bored,” he said, turning back to her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So, do you want to come in…?” At the odd look on his face that seemed to suggest to Sansa that he did _not_ want to come in, she quickly amended, “Or just we can just sit down for a few minutes out here?”

Sandor seemed more agreeable to that and the two of them sat opposite one another in the wicker chairs. He glared down at the thing when it made a noise of protest under his weight and Sansa tried to hide a smirk. Sandor seemed at ease with silence, but Sansa had always been raised to be polite and she felt not conversing with him was rude.

“Where do you work?” she asked, propping her feet on the iron railing of the porch.

“I own a bar and grill downtown,” he answered, staring at his clasped hands. He was sitting on her left side, so she couldn’t see the scars that she had once shied away from.

“Oh, that sounds interesting. I’m guessing you see all sorts of crazy people. Do you have to work every night?”

Sandor shook his head. “No, I don’t have to, but I often do. Don’t trust anyone else. Have to make sure it runs smoothly.”

“What’s it called?” Sansa asked conversationally.

He looked up at her inquisitively. “Don’t tell me you’re looking to go barhopping.”

Sansa felt that familiar pulse of anger when he said something that made her feel like she had to defend herself. She was just trying to have a conversation with him. And even if she _did_ want to go to a bar, what was wrong with that? Her whole life was dedicated to Lyanna- was it wrong to have one night off in case she wanted to hang out at a bar?

Her teeth clenched, she answered, “Are you against mothers patronizing your business?”

His face changed then, hardened, and she watched his eyes narrow in anger. “Nothing to do with that, _Ms. Stark_. Though you might have an aversion to them after you were almost beaten to death behind a bar. Figured you might be disinclined to visit them.” He stood up then, and Sansa could not for the life of her get her mouth to stop opening and closing like a fish. “Good night,” he sneered at her, and stomped back to his own house.

Too late, Sansa found her voice, said, “Oh,” as she put the pieces together, and then continued sitting on her porch, her face burning with embarrassment. When she thought about the last time he’d seen her before he became her neighbor, it wasn’t too hard to imagine that he would think she would have an aversion to bars. Truth was, she didn’t have many memories of the bar itself. Between the alcohol that had clouded her brain, then the subsequent beating, Sansa could hardly remember what the bar looked like. She remembered the name, but that was only because it was in the official police report.

She put her head in her hands, struggling to remember that night. The liquor had relaxed her to the point that she’d let her guard down with Joffrey. She remembered wanting to relax just enough that she could tolerate him, but she had relaxed to the point that her natural sassiness had been unfiltered that night. She didn’t remember what she’d said. She didn’t really remember what she had done, but there was a vague memory of Joffrey accusing her of acting like a whore. She doubted very much that she had acted improperly.

Joffrey had slapped her a few times, but people had begun to take notice, so Joffrey had grabbed her arm just above her elbow (she remembered this only because of the bruise he left), and dragged her to the alley behind the bar. She had been mouthy with him, she remembered that. He just kept slapping her and the more he slapped her, the angrier she became. Sansa was sure that at some point, she had started hitting him back. And then Meryn Trant was there, and all she could recall was the pain. Pain in her ribs, pain in her skull, pain in her back, pain in her jaw…

She recalled the feeling of dread, thinking _He’s going to kill me, but I don’t want to die…_

Sansa shuddered, despite the fact that it was still above 90 degrees outside. She absently touched her ribs, remembering waking up with the pain, the agony that came with inhaling.

Sansa had passed out, but the beating continued until at some point, Sandor had showed up. His warm, strong body was the first thing she could recall after she was plucked from the ground. He’d carried her out of the alley. Someone had called the cops and an ambulance, so paramedics had taken over from there. Sansa had been able to hear them arguing with Sandor about moving her, but he had just snapped back that he wasn’t going to leave her laying behind a dumpster.

She had the urge to go to his house again. To apologize for always thinking the worst of him. The stubborn part of her brain told her that perhaps he had thought the worst of her as well when it came to letting her daughter escape and leaving her puppy out in the heat; but the rational part of her brain told her that this instance was her fault. She stood from her seat, telling herself that she would walk over there and apologize. Sansa had never been shy about apologizing. She wasn’t too proud to admit when she was wrong. But something kept her from going over there- not the fact that she thought he was in the wrong because she knew he wasn’t. She thought perhaps he wouldn’t care for her apology and didn’t care anything about her showing her face at his door again.

Glancing once more to Sandor’s house, she sighed heavily and turned to go inside.

_Looks like I’ll have to find another option for Pupcake._

***

(Sandor)

That night at work, Sandor was aware that he was in a more volatile mood than usual. His regulars were used to his resting asshole face, but one of his new bartenders, a lad named Gendry, drew his attention to the fact that he was in a downright shitty mood. Gendry wasn’t bashful about pointing out when Sandor was in a bad mood. Gendry had known him for years from Sandor’s days serving the Lannister-Baratheon family. Robert Baratheon had taken an interest in his bastard son after he was fully grown and, much to the chagrin of Cersei, had allowed him to move into the family home. Sandor has chased the younger Stark girl away from his bedroom countless times. Though Gendry hadn’t explicitly said it, Sandor knew he was with the little wolf bitch. He saw her in his bar often, visiting his bartender. Gendry, for whatever reason, had neglected to tell her that it was Sandor’s bar. Probably had something to do with his little girlfriend disapproving of who Gendry decided to keep company with.

“You’re going to run off the customers,” Gendry complained when Sandor had inadvertently growled at some stupid remark some college girl had made. Gendry had given her one of his easy smiles and refilled her glass and she’d happily moved to the other end of the bar. “If people find out what a prick the owner is, you’ll lose business.”

Sandor grumbled in agreement and went to sit in his office. It was Thursday night, so the bar wasn’t as busy and Gendry wouldn’t need his help. Just as he had told Sansa, he didn’t have to be at the bar every night, but what else did he have to do?

It had been beyond shocking to see her again, running up her driveway in panic, searching for the tiny blonde girl that turned out to be her daughter. Years of keeping his cool had allowed him to remain stoic in her presence. When he’d first found the girl, or rather, when she had found him, she had been peeking through the chain link gate that led to his backyard, trying to sweet-talk Stranger. It had been working too, because his giant dog was sitting happily on the opposite side of the gate, long tail wagging happily as he tried to sniff the chubby little hand she had stuck through the fence. Her little mutt of a dog had been sitting obediently at her side, whimpering for attention.

First, he’d grudgingly thought it was cute. Then, he’d been aggravated because he was the _motherfucking Hound_ and he didn’t think _anything_ was cute. Then he’d gotten aggravated at the situation: not so much the girl, but more the fact that there was a small child, unattended, petting a dog that for all she knew would rip her arm off. Even though Sandor knew that Stranger was fond of kids and wouldn’t hurt a fly, the kid’s parents had no way of knowing that. Aggravation had turned to outrage as he tried to figure out why such a little lass was wandering around on her own.

Sandor had called Stranger inside, watching as the girl’s face fell and she gave a sad little wave at his monster dog. He had then went around, opening the gate as the girl jumped back, and told her that they needed to find her mom or dad.

“Mommy’s inside,” she explained, pointing at the house next door that had been empty until very recently. He had seen cars, but not people, before that day.

Sandor had a curious instinct to reach down and take the girl’s hand, but he considered the fact that he was literally more than twice her height and thought better of it. Just as he was indicating that they should get her back into her house, he’d seen a streak of auburn hair and pale legs take off down the driveway, running toward the road, screaming “Lyanna!”

The little blonde lass tilted her head all the way back to look up at him. “That’s me,” she said.

Sandor gave a grunt and a nod, and then waved for her to follow him, which thankfully, she did. The little puppy followed at the girl’s heels. When Sansa had run up the hill at the sound of her daughter’s voice, Sandor was struck dumb. He couldn’t recall what he thought first. He had undoubtedly been shocked to see her. It had been years since he had lifted a bloodied, broken little bird to his chest and carried her out of that alley.

_She’s still beautiful_ , he’d thought grudgingly, watching her as she lifted her daughter. He hadn’t known, of course, that Lyanna was her daughter. At first he thought she may have been her babysitter. For some reason, in all the times he had thought of her since that night, he had never once imagined that she would have a child. His brain evidently couldn’t keep up with the shock because at first he thought that the runt may have belonged to Joffrey. It didn’t occur to him at first that the child was too young to belong to Joffrey, that it had been too many years since he’d carried Sansa away from that life.

Now, as he sat in his office, pretending to give attention to all the paperwork scattered across the top, he wondered who the little blonde girl’s father was. It seemed Sansa and her daughter lived alone. Was the father involved at all? Had Sansa married him? She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been previously married.

_Why do I give a fuck if she was wearing a ring or not?_ The fact that he’d noticed that there had been no ring only annoyed him further. He grudgingly admitted that he was curious who had fathered the little girl. She was a cute one, despite the fact that she didn’t look much like Sansa. Her hair was a light golden blonde and her eyes were a bright blue, quite different than Sansa’s own ice-like eyes. Sansa had mentioned that she hadn’t turned 3 yet, but it seemed to Sandor that she was tall; not that he had been around many toddlers, mind you, but he thought she could have passed for four years old.

_No way I wouldn’t be involved if I had a kid that cute_ , Sandor thought. He had never really thought about kids. He had resigned himself long ago that he wasn’t the family type, but there were times he caught himself watching kids, especially little ones, wondering what it would be like to grasp a sticky little hand in his own massive paw, to heft a little body onto his shoulders and go for an evening walk, to plant a kiss on a soft, chubby little cheek…

_I’m going soft in my old age_.

And so it was with thoughts of keeping Lyanna’s little dog safe that he found himself standing at Sansa’s side door on Saturday morning, holding the screen door open with his foot and thumping the wooden door with his fist, grumbling to himself all the while.

There were old blinds hung on the window of the door that he was surprised Sansa hadn’t gotten rid of, so he couldn’t see into the house. But he heard commotion on the other side of the door, and after a slight movement of the blinds, the lock clicked and Sansa swung open the door, staring at him in shock.

_Seven help_ , Sandor pleaded, eyeing her long, slender, pale legs that disappeared under a very tiny pair of pink shorts. His eyes continued up from there, taking in her black camisole with lace trim at the neckline, her long, auburn hair hanging loose and tousled about her face. He cleared his throat and managed to meet her eyes.

“Oh, hey, Sandor…can-can I help you?” she squinted at him, as if she wasn’t sure she was seeing properly, as though her sleep-addled brain was playing tricks on her and he fought a smirk.

He held up a toolbox as if that was enough explanation. “Dog door installation, remember?”

She blinked rapidly several times, then took a deep breath, let it out shakily. “Right. Oh, of course! You…still want to do that?” She sounded very uncertain and Sandor understood why. They hadn’t parted on the best terms, but he had told her he’d install the door and he wasn’t one to go back on his word.

“Only if you want it.”

She nodded four times so quickly that Sandor thought she’d jerk her pretty little head right off her shoulders. “Yes, please. And thank you! Come on in!”

And with that, Sandor stepped into her house for the first time.


	6. Not even ridiculous party hats could make me cute, Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirtless Sandor. Muscles. Hair. Inguinal crease.
> 
> Enjoy.

Sansa watched Sandor warily as he installed the dog door. He removed her back door first, then disappeared momentarily to his own back yard, returning with two sawhorses.  Lyanna woke up when she heard the jigsaw hum to life, and she and Pupcake sat watching in fascination as Sandor cut the hole out of the door to fit the dog door frame in place.  Sansa attempted to shoo away toddler and puppy alike, but Sandor assured her they weren’t bothering him.

She was perplexed at his behavior. He had seemed angry at her the other day when she’d jumped the gun about his intentions regarding her social life.  She was sure she wouldn’t see him again except in passing.  Yet here he was, standing on her deck fitting a dog door into her backdoor, sweat staining the neck of his shirt from the scorching sun, his huge arm muscles flexing with the smallest movement…

Sansa physically shook herself. The least she could do was act like an adult and stop ogling him.  He was doing something nice for her and she wasn’t sure she even deserved it.  She brought him out a Gatorade in a pathetic attempt at gratitude, and then went back into her air conditioning to ponder if there was something else she could do for him.  It was only fair that she find a way to return the favor.  Plus, Lyanna was chatting his ear off about something or the other, and his patience with the endless jabbering of a toddler was impressive.

Lyanna and Pupcake finally made their way inside for breakfast. “He nice, Mommy,” Lyanna said, talking around a mouthful of Cheerios.

“He is,” Sansa agreed quietly, though it was an odd way to describe him. She had never thought of him as _nice_ , but the good deed he was currently working on contradicted many of her previous memories of him.

“He my friend,” Lyanna said, attempting to toss Pupcake a couple of pieces of cereal sneakily. “He your friend, too?”

“Umm…yeah. I guess he is.”

She left Lyanna to her breakfast and was headed to the deck to check on the progress. She stopped dead at the currently-doorless entry and she felt her jaw drop.  Sandor had clearly decided to take a quick break.  He was standing near the stairs of her deck, guzzling his Gatorade, with his discarded shirt hanging over a quite muscular shoulder!

_Seven above! WHY?_   Sansa had to remind herself to breathe as she took in the well-defined muscles of his arms, the perfectly sculpted chest with a dusting of dark hair that crept down a toned, flat stomach and disappeared into his jeans.  He even had those ridiculously sexy v-lines at his hips. _Inguinal crease_ , Sansa remembered.  Apparently, this was something Margaery rather liked in her men, but Sansa had never seen one up close like this…

He had tattoos too, which she had never seen before because they were all in places that clothing covered. He had something scrawled on his chest, over his heart.  She could see a design on his back and on his right arm, but couldn’t make out what they were.  She wished she could have made out the designs, but she had didn’t want to be too terribly obvious that she was studying him.  The one she could make out was on his left arm; it was a screaming skull, the left half of its face aflame….

“You need something?” She heard him say and her eyes snapped to his face, where he was watching her, clearly aware that she’d just been eyeing him, and looking mildly amused.

_Why the hell did I come out here again?_ At a loss, she blurted, “Lemon cakes!”

“Lemon cakes?”

“Yes, I am going to make some lemon cakes. They’re our favorite and I just wanted to see if you would like some…or something else…or whatever you want really because you’re being so nice about doing this doggy door…”

“Little Bird,” he cut her off, looking a bit exasperated. “Stop chirping.  Lemon cakes are fine.”

“Right,” Sansa nodded, but didn’t move. Her eyes were drawn back to that chest and she had a sudden urge to run her fingers through the hair there just to see if it was soft…

“MOMMY!” Lyanna screeched, tearing Sansa out of her moment of admiration.

“COMING!” She hollered back, spinning on her heel and escaping to the safety of her house.

After Sandor finished with the door, he let her know he was done and made to leave. Sansa was in the middle of making the lemon cakes and told him she’d bring him some when they were done.  He only gave a grunt as an answer and disappeared out the door.  Sansa grabbed up her phone and shot Arya a message.

_Sansa: I think my hormones are out of whack.  I’m doing an awful lot of staring at muscles lately and that is not like me…_

**Arya: ohhhh got a crush? who is it?  as long as u dont tell me that ur lookin at old pics of harry or something….his muscles arent even that impressive**

_Sansa: Of course not.  Never cared much for muscles really.  Until recently.  I think maybe I’m just lonely so I’m lusting after random people now._

**Arya: still wanna know whose muscles ur lookin at.  Better not be gendry’s, bc he’s mine biiooootchh**

_Sansa: eww no!  He’s like a brother to me, for Seven’s sake._

**Arya: well if we were targaryens that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, would it?  I need to know who caught ur eye.  Some pretty boy u go to school with?  I know it’s not Baelish…acckkk I think I just threw up in my mouth thinkin about it**

_Sansa: Never said it was anyone specific.  Just people.  Random people.  No one you’d know._

**Arya: w/e…u wouldn’t text me to tell me ur drooling over muscles if it wasn’t someone specific…hmmm….mailman?  pizza delivery guy?**

_Sansa: Look, all I need to know is if you have any suggestions on what to do about it.  I’m making an idiot of myself._

**Arya: Holy fuck….**

_Sansa: Excuse you.  That is not nice._

**Arya: AND PANTING AFTER THE FUCKIN HOUND IS?!?!**

_Sansa: HOW DID YOU KNOW?!_

**Arya: SO ITS TRUE?!?!?!?!  Fuccckkkkkkk kill me plz. Didn’t need those images.**

“Shit, shit, shit,” Sansa muttered, to which Lyanna responded, “LANGUAGE, MOMMY!” She plopped a lemon cake on her breakfast plate to take her little mind off of her mommy’s potty mouth, and typed back to Arya.

_Sansa: Listen, this is the first time I’ve been single in a while.  My hormones are just making me crazy.  Any advice??_

**Arya: I mean, you could fuck him**

_Sansa: ARYA, NO!_

**Arya: y not?  Bet he’d totally be down for it.  ur a catch. And even if he does have a fucked up face, he IS a lot of muscle. Fuck cant believe I just said that. Brb going to kill myself.**

Sansa tossed her phone onto the counter, cursing her sister for her lack of help. She busied herself with arranging a tray of lemon cakes to take to Sandor.  After she had helped Lyanna get dressed, Sansa headed over with her confectionary treat, Lyanna and Pupcake following close behind.  Lyanna was adamant that she wanted to press the button, so standing on her tiptoes, she pressed the doorbell about five times.

Pupcake, clearly sensing Stranger’s presence, began to yip excitedly before the wooden door had even opened. Sandor cracked the door as if he didn’t know who he’d find outside, then seemed to remember the promise of sweets and opened it the rest of the way.

“Hiiii, Mister!” Lyanna beamed up at him.

Sansa saw a corner of his mouth turn up as he greeted Lyanna. “It’s Sandor.  You don’t have to call me ‘mister’.”

“Okaayyy, San-more!”

Sandor smirked, then surprised her by saying, “You want to come in for a minute? It’s hot as a dragon’s nut sack out here.”  He turned and held the door open for them without waiting for an answer.

Sansa had been content to just hand over the cakes and get back to her own house, but Sandor invited them in and Lyanna and Pupcake wasted no time barging into his living room.

Dumbly, she followed them in. His living room was much the same as her front living room, but a mirror image.  His fireplace was to the left.  A leather loveseat sat directly across the room from it, almost as far as it could be arranged while still being in the small room.  There was a large tv hung above the fireplace that seemed to take up nearly the entire wall.

Stranger was curled up on a massive dog bed in front of his bay window and Pupcake went over immediately and began to sniff at him.

Sandor snorted. “Some guard dog.  Didn’t even make a noise when you walked up.”

Lyanna said, “I have you some lemon cakes!”

“You do? Did you bake them?”

She shook her head. “My mommy made ‘em.  They are deeee-licious!”

“Guess I have no choice but to try it then, huh?” He motioned for them to follow him as he went through the entry to his dining room. Like Sansa’s, it was just off of the main living room, but it didn’t have the fancy French doors that hers had.  She was actually surprised to see that he even had a table in his dining room, considering she got the impression that he didn’t entertain much.

The three of them sat, Lyanna struggling into the counter height chairs. She pushed the tray of lemon cakes at him and then propped her elbows on the table, then dropped her chin into her hands, watching him.  Sansa again marveled that Lyanna studied his face, scars and all, without any of the shock or revulsion or alarm that Sansa had seen on other people’s faces when they saw Sandor. 

Sandor picked up the dainty lemon cake in his huge hand and had it done in two bites.

“Is it deeee-licious?” Lyanna asked anxiously.

“Not bad,” Sandor allowed.

“Noooo, San-more, they not not bad! They yummy!”

“Sure,” he agreed, looking a bit overwhelmed at all the attention he was getting from Sansa’s toddler. “They’re yummy.”

Sansa had to stifle a giggle at the word “yummy” coming out of the mouth of a big, hulking specimen such as Sandor. He glared at her, but she got the feeling it was more a tease than true grouchiness.  Lyanna stole a lemon cake from the tray and started stuffing it in her mouth, Pupcake catching the crumbs she dropped under the table.

“San-more,” Lyanna said thoughtfully, mouth still half-full of cake, “You come to my party?”

Sansa watched Sandor’s brow shoot up in surprise and he glanced at her warily. “What?”

“Umm,” Sansa said, unsure how to approach the situation. She had barely been able to throw a party together for Lyanna’s birthday and then most of the family had been busy.  She had never dreamed Lyanna would go around inviting the neighbors.  “Sweetie, I don’t think…”

“Oh, plllleaaassee!” She clasped her chubby little hands together as if she was praying, her big blue eyes bouncing between Sansa and Sandor.

Sandor cleared his throat. “What party?”

“I be three,” Lyanna told him in a voice that suggested he was an idiot for not already knowing this, the word ‘three’ coming out sounding like ‘thwee’.

“Ah,” Sandor nodded in recognition. “Of course.  The big three.”  He glanced at Sansa again, clearly unsure of how to handle this.

“I get you a party hat?” Lyanna suggested, clearly trying to sweeten the deal for him.

Sansa snickered and she saw that Sandor was losing his battle with keeping a straight face. He looked at her again, almost as though he were asking permission. _Oh, what the hell_ , Sansa thought, and gave him a nod.

“You know, I guess I can do that. Without the party hat,” he said firmly.

Lyanna beamed up at him as if he’d just agreed to buy her a pony.

“YAAAYYY! Thank you, San-more!”  Lyanna jumped out of her seat and ran to play with Pupcake.

“You’ve just made her year, I think,” Sansa said in wonder.

“I’m not wearing a party hat,” he reminded her. “That’s where I draw the line.”

Sansa grinned at him. “Oh, but you would look so cute in a party hat,” she teased.

Something in his eyes darkened just a hair. “Not even ridiculous party hats could make me cute, Little Bird.”

Sansa’s face fell. Apparently he couldn’t even take a compliment in the form of a joke. _Is he really that insecure about his face?_ It perplexed Sansa because while the scarring was disconcerting at first glance, she didn’t think it really took away from his attractiveness.  Without the scarring, Sansa could tell Sandor would have been awfully handsome.  The soft lips, the full beard, the thick, dark lashes, and the silver-grey eyes were enough to make most women swoon.  And that wasn’t even taking into consideration his god-like body.

“You’re right,” Sansa heard herself say, without meaning to voice her thoughts. “Stunningly attractive, built like an underwear model, sexy voice…” She shrugged as if it was no big deal.  “Cute really isn’t the correct adjective.”

He shook his head. “You are one insane Little Bird.”

“I’m a Little Bird with two perfectly functioning eyes,” she countered, then felt a blush creep to her cheeks. _Am I flirting with him? Seven hells!_

He studied her for a moment. “Built like an underwear model, huh?  And how would you know that?”

Sansa felt heat rush to her cheeks and would have bet anything that her face was nearly the color of her hair. _Yes, you said that out loud, Sansa Stark. You smooth talker, you._

“Ermm…”

“Meant to tell you,” he said, blessedly changing the subject. “I think your sister is dating one of my new bartenders.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Gendry…?”

Sandor nodded. “That’s the one.”

“He works for you? How could she not tell me that?!  I mean, I knew he’d started a new job.”

Sandor shrugged. “She may not know it’s my bar.  She comes in sometimes, but I’m usually in the office and see her through the one-way mirror.”

“Yeah, if she would’ve known, I would have definitely heard about,” Sansa muttered.

Sandor was quiet for moment. “You and your sister talk about me often, then?”

_Fuuuuckkkk, how do I keep doing that???_ Sansa took a deep breath, gave a nervous smile, and said, “Well, she just saw you and she knows you live here and she knows you from when I dated Joffrey and if she knew her boyfriend worked for you, she would’ve mentioned it…”

“Bird,” he cut her off for the second time that day, giving her a point look. “You’re chirping again.”

“Right, well Lyanna and I better get going. I want to spend some time with her before my parents pick her up.  They haven’t seen her in two weeks and they’re having withdrawals.”

Sandor nodded, standing from his chair to walk them out. “By yourself for the first time tonight?”

Sansa nodded. “Yeah, it’s going to be weird with Lyanna not there.  Mom said I could stay over too, but I’m a little old for slumber parties with my parents.  Plus, I think they want Lyanna to themselves.  Guess I’ll get some studying done.”

He opened the door as Sansa called for Lyanna, the little girl reluctantly pulling herself away from where she sat petting Stranger. “Or you could go barhopping,” he suggested innocently, and when she jerked her head around to look at him, he had the half-smirk she was becoming familiar with.

She rolled her eyes. “You were right before, not much of a barhopper.”

He shrugged as he stepped out on the porch with them. “What about just going to one bar?  That’s not really barhopping, is it?” 

Sansa knew what he was getting at, and though a thousand excuses were at the tip of her tongue, she found that she didn’t want to give him an excuse. She wanted to accept his invitation.

“Never caught the name,” she reminded him, looking back over her shoulder as she descended his steps.

“Hell’s Hound Bar and Grill,” he said, then turned and went back into his house.

“It’s a date then,” Sansa whispered to herself, though it really wasn’t. But a girl could dream, right?


	7. That ass is something I dream of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets ready for her not-a-date-although-she-wants-it-to-be-a-date, realizes that it actually isn't a date, ponders getting in a fight, and then has her night ruined.

_Sansa: I need you to tell me that you’re off tonight!_

**Arya: working now but off tonite.  Get off at 5.  thought mom and dad had the little squirt tonite tho?**

_Sansa: They do.  It’s something else.  WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME GENDRY’S BOSS WAS SANDOR?!_

**Arya: whoa hold up.  Sandor is the owner of hell’s hound? Wtf….how did I not see that?  Didn’t know, my dude.  Why r u freakin out about it?**

_Sansa: I’m going to Sandor’s bar tonight.  He invited me.  But I need a wingman.  Wingman?  Is that the right word?_

**Arya: omg r u for real trying to pick up sandor?**

_Sansa: NO!  Obviously wingman was the wrong word…ermmm…I need a social buffer?_

**Arya: san, ur the pretty, popular one. Wtf do u need with a buffer?**

_Sansa: I’m also socially awkward, whereas you make friends easily, so…_

**Arya: ugh alright I’ll go. Im not making friends with the hound for u tho. Drawing the line there.  But at least I’ll get to look at gendry.  Girls r all the time hitting on him while he’s at work and I like to go scare them away**

_Sansa: Well aren’t you just precious.  I need you here when you get off work.  Clothes, makeup, all that._

**Arya: fuck!  Sansa ur getting dolled up for him wtf?  Uggghhh call Margaery, this is more her area.**

_Sansa: NO!  Margaery likes big, scary looking guys.  He might like her too._

**Arya: ….jealous much?**

_Sansa: Done with this conversation.  See you in a bit!_

Sansa and Lyanna spent the afternoon playing in the yard, drawing on the sidewalk, and then cooling off in the house. She caught a couple more glimpses of Sandor when he’d step out with Stranger, but for some reason she had gotten so nervous that she didn’t step out and speak to him.  She cleaned when Lyanna napped, and when it came time for Ned and Catelyn to come pick her up, she dressed her in one of the outfits she had made herself, placing a matching bow in her hair.

This was the first time her parents would see her new home and she found she was as nervous at that prospect as she was at seeing Sandor later. Sansa came from a family with a lot of money.  Not only did they have Winterfell back up North, but the house they occupied in King’s Landing was just as lavish, if lacking the historical charm.  That wasn’t to mention the chalet in the Vale or the beach house in Lemonwood.  By comparison, Sansa’s tiny house in Rosby made her look almost impoverished.  Both of her parents came from wealthy families, so she was unsure if they had ever stepped foot in a simple little house with only two bedrooms. 

When Sansa’s doorbell rang announcing their arrival, she took a deep breath and followed after Lyanna, who sprinted through the narrow hallway, screeching “Pappy!!”

Sansa opened her front door to her smiling parents and Lyanna launched herself at Ned’s legs, almost taking him out. He bent to pick her up, laughing at her enthusiasm as Sansa ushered her parents into her tiny living room.  The three of them sat on the couch, Lyanna in Ned’s lap, and Sansa watched her mother take in the aging wooden floors too scraped to be saved by shining them, the unfashionably old blinds covering the window of the side door, and the light fixture which had probably been the original one that was placed when the house was built.

“Such a quaint little place you have,” Catelyn commented, trying to sound polite, but the slight wrinkle in her nose and the fake smile clued Sansa in that she wasn’t that impressed.

“Clean-looking neighborhood,” Ned said, sounding sincere enough.

“Met any of your neighbors yet?” Catelyn asked, stealing a kiss from Lyanna.

“Oh, yeah, a couple,” Sansa said, though really it was just Sandor. It was a quiet street and the only other person she’d seen on multiple occasions outside of Sandor was the older gentleman across the street, whose name she did not know.  “Margaery said it’s mostly elderly people living on this road.”

“That’s good. Makes it safer, I suppose,” Catelyn paused and Sansa knew that some sort of contradiction was coming.  “Though I did notice the next door neighbor has a motorcycle and a pickup truck….”

“Cat, I’m sure old people enjoy riding motorcycles too,” Ned said, giving his wife a look.

“Oh, of course, I just wondered if you had met him or her yet.”

Sansa, who usually tried to keep the peace and keep all potentially scandalous information from reaching her mother, was not sure what came over her at the next moment; all she knew was she was tired of playing this game, and said, “Well, an elderly gentleman doesn’t ride that motorcycle, Mother. Sandor Clegane lives there and it belongs to him.  I’m not sure if I’ve even seen him crank his pickup yet because he takes the bike every day.”

The reaction was immediate and, admittedly, as expected. Catelyn stood up and rounded on Sansa, her jaw dropping open and her eyes going wide.  “ _That man lives next to you?!”_

“Sit down, Cat,” Ned said calmly as Lyanna gave her grandmother a strange look.

“Don’t you ‘sit down, Cat’ me, Eddard Stark! Our daughter is living next to a brute who assaulted her in the past, and…”

“ _MOTHER!_ ” Sansa all but yelled, getting to her feet as well.  “Please stop being so dramatic!  He never laid a finger on me.  You’re misremembering!  I wouldn’t have stayed here if I was living next to someone I’m afraid of!”

“Sansa, if he doesn’t scare you, then you aren’t thinking clearly!” Catelyn was wringing her hands, looking truly distressed as she looked at Ned for support.

Ned shook his head, lowering Lyanna to the floor. “Cat, the man saved her after a terrible beating.  From what I understand, he almost beat Meryn Trant to death after he found Sansa.  He probably saved her life,” he added, quietly.

“Mother, just because he looks rough doesn’t mean I’ve ever been in any danger with him. If he was going to hurt me, he would have done it years ago.  I’m not afraid of him.  If nothing else, you should trust my judgment.”

Catelyn seemed like she wanted to say more, but her eyes darted to the little blonde girl who was looking between her mother and grandmother curiously.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Cat said, lifting Lyanna into her arms.

Sansa gave a disgusted sigh and look at her dad for support. He just placed a kiss on top of her head and as Cat walked out the door said, “Maybe she’ll forget about it?”

“Yeah, right,” Sansa grumbled, glad she hadn’t mentioned she was visiting his bar tonight. It wouldn’t do to not only scare her mother, but to also shame her by being seen at a bar.

By the time Arya had made it to her house, Sansa had tried on three different outfits. Arya changed into short denim cutoffs and had layered a lacy, sheer tank top over a dark purple camisole.  The tattoos covering her arms were now on display and Sansa admired the intricate artwork covering her sister.  On her feet she wore plain, black Converse.

“I like how the purple streak in your hair matches your undershirt,” Sansa commented, always in awe that Arya could pull off crazy hair colors that Sansa wished she could, but would never attempt. “You missed Mom and Dad by about an hour.”

“Boy, I hate that,” Arya muttered sarcastically.

Sansa, meanwhile, had tried on a white sundress, then a yellow skirt with a white blouse, and then a pair of leggings with a tunic. She was currently standing in her underwear, pondering why in the world this was so difficult.

“Listen, princess, just put on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and let’s go. No one cares what you wear.  You could walk in there wearing a paper bag and still turn heads.”

“Arya, that’s so sweet! But no.”

Arya leaned back on her bed, propped up by her elbows and watched as Sansa flitted about the room. “Do you really think that the Hound is going to be impressed by you dressing up for him?  He hates liars and I imagine wearing something you aren’t comfortable with would qualify.  If you go to a downtown bar and grill dressed as though you’re attending Sept, then he’s going to think you’re full of shit.”

Sansa stopped tearing things from her closet and glared at Arya, who was utterly unfazed.

“You don’t scare me,” Arya reminded her.

Sansa groaned and conceded that Arya was probably right. She pulled a short, denim skirt from a hanger as well as a coral colored v-neck tee shirt.  She held them up to Arya.

Arya made a face, then shrugged, and gave a grudging nod of approval. “You and that coral color.”

“Looks good with my skin,” Sansa muttered as she hurriedly got dressed.

They took Arya’s car, driving into the small downtown area of Rosby. Despite the size, Rosby was a busy little town that came alive on Saturday nights with live music at many of the bars and restaurants, street festivals once a month, and various events scattered throughout the year designed to draw people together.  Sansa had visited Rosby before making the move and had always loved it.  When Margaery had told her that one of her brother’s rental homes had come open here, Sansa had jumped at the chance to live the small-town life for once.

Arya pulled up to Hell’s Hound, telling Sansa something about how they were lucky to get here early before all the good parking was taken. Sansa climbed from Arya’s Jeep as elegantly as she could in a short skirt, struggling not to show any lady bits, and then followed her sister into the bar.

Sansa immediately liked the comfortable atmosphere. The front half of the right side of the bar was all booths and was separated from the rest of the restaurant by a short, brick wall.  Beyond that was a dance floor and a stage in the back where a band was sound-checking their equipment.

The front left was all high top tables and the bar stretched nearly to the stage. In the back of the place was a narrow hallway which Sansa assumed led to kitchens and the bathrooms.  There was a jukebox within the walled area where the booths were located and it was currently playing some old rock song.  The booths were nearly full, as were the high-top tables, so instead of waiting for a hostess, Arya told her they’d just grab a seat at the bar. 

Arya’s handsome boyfriend grinned at the both of them when they plopped on the stools in front of him. “What can I get for you lovely ladies?”

“Well, I’ll have a Jack and Coke. I think Sansa just wants your boss,” Arya said smoothly.

“Wha…ARYA!” Sansa spun around to shoot her a glare.

“Still not scared,” she said, then winked at Gendry, who looked confused.

“You want to talk to Sandor?” he asked. Clearly, Arya had not filled him in on any of this.

“Not now,” Sansa said, smiling politely.

The sisters ordered some food and Sansa grudgingly ordered a Margarita at Arya’s insistence and the treat that she would never go out with her again if she didn’t relax.

“So why are you suddenly so interested in him?” Arya asked before taking a huge bite out of the biggest burger Sansa had ever seen.

“Who says I’m interested in him?” Sansa asked, shrugging and trying to play it cool while she poked at her chicken salad.

Arya rolled her eyes. “Well, you more or less told me you were interested.  I’ve gathered you are horny and want a good lay, and it would appear you want it from the Hound.”

“I’m…not…I’m…I didn’t say I was …horny,” Sansa squeaked, downing some of her Margarita rather faster than she meant to in hopes it would cool the blush rising in her cheeks.

Arya gave her a vicious side-eye. “Don’t make me quote you, princess.  Hormones were mentioned.  Don’t back-pedal now.”

“He’s really nice,” Sansa tried, which earned her another look from Arya that said she wasn’t convinced.

“Nice? You’re interested in the Hound because he’s _nice_?  He’s the meanest, grouchiest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met!  I mean, true, it’s been some time since he was constantly chasing me away from the Baratheon house, but he can’t have changed that much.”

Suddenly intrigued, Sansa said, “How well do you know him? I thought you had just heard of him because of Joffrey?”

“Well, no. Geez, Sansa, how oblivious were you when you were with Joffrey?  You know the Hound was all the time watching out for the Baratheon kids, trying to keep them out of trouble…”

“Of course,” Sansa said impatiently. Sandor had been hired specifically to watch over Joffrey, but it wasn’t a surprise that he would try to keep Myrcella and Tommen out of trouble too, and she imagined that extended to Gendry once he’d moved in with Robert and Cersei.

“Well, Gendry and I…we’ve been close for longer than you know. Dad was constantly taking us around Robert’s house, so Gendry and I became friends.  It was purely platonic at first.  Then, a couple of years after he moved in, I would try to sneak over and see him…just no longer in a platonic way.  Mom and Dad would’ve stroked out if they’d known I was seeing an older boy.  I mean, he was twenty and I was fifteen.  Mom would’ve flipped her shit.  Anyway, Sandor was always catching me where I wasn’t supposed to be and was always _mean as hell_!  Can’t believe Gendry wanted to work for him.”

“Hey, I like him,” Gendry said from behind the bar.

Arya just shook her head as if she would never understand what her sister and her boyfriend saw in the Hound. Sansa was failing to see how she _didn’t_ see.

“Well, I don’t like you,” a deep voice rasped from behind her, nearly making Sansa fall off her stool. She spun around, somehow managing to keep her seat, and there he was.  He was giving Gendry a serious look, but she could tell from the sparkle in his eyes that he was joking.  He was wearing black slacks with a dark blue polo shirt, the sleeves of which seemed to be straining around his massive biceps.  His long, black hair was tied behind his head in a ponytail, exposing his scars, and Sansa realized that she liked it.  A lot. 

“Hi,” Sansa said, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto her face.

“Hi,” Arya squeaked an echo, teasing her sister, to which Sansa gave her a hard poke in the ribs.

Sandor’s eyes narrowed at the tiny, black haired hellion sitting beside Sansa. “You brought the wolf-bitch, why exactly?”

“Hey, Hound,” Arya said, spinning on her own stool to face him, “ _I_ brought _her_.  If not for me, you wouldn’t be seeing this pretty face tonight.”

“Don’t call her wolf-bitch,” Sansa said in a pathetic attempt to defend Arya, although she admitted to herself that it kind of fit.

“It’s a pet name,” Sandor said, walking around behind the bar to help Gendry serve. “She calls me Hound, I call her wolf-bitch.”

Arya narrowed her grey eyes at him. “Hound is a nickname you’ve had for years, asshole.  Only you call me wolf-bitch.”

Sandor shrugged as he passed a couple of drinks to some women sitting a few seats down from Sansa. “If I call you that enough times, might be it’ll catch on.  Your boyfriend isn’t even defending you, so must be some truth to it.”

Arya scoffed. “I don’t need him to defend me.  He’s twice my weight and I can wrestle him to the ground.”

“Hey!” Gendry said, insulted, “I let you win most of the time.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why not? You end up on top of me and good things happen.  I’m not fighting that.”

“Too much information,” Sansa finally chimed in. Sandor had disappeared somewhere and now that she was done with her food, she wasn’t sure what to do.  The band began playing and it became increasingly difficult to hear what Arya was saying.  Finally, Arya jumped up, deciding to go dance like a maniac, leaving Sansa on her own at the bar.

It was still early, so most of the people in the bar were eating and the bar stools remained largely empty. She knew in another hour or so the place would be packed.  So she took the time to people watch before it got so crowded.  Arya and a few other people were standing on the dance floor in front of the stage.  Gendry was smiling politely at some drunk girl who was trying her damnedest to hit on him, and Sandor was still missing.  She figured he’d be back out when it was busier, but a part of her had hoped that maybe he’d talk to her while it was still slow.

As the bar got more crowded, Sandor did come back out, assisting Gendry and the other bartenders and successfully not barking at people, though Sansa noticed that he had to put in an extra effort with some of his more unruly patrons. During a break in the music, Sansa caught snippets of conversation from the girls sitting near her.

“…built like a brick shithouse,” one of them was saying, and when Sansa turned to look at her, the girl was clearly staring at Sandor’s backside as he made his way into the narrow corridor where Sansa assumed his office was located.

“That ass is something I dream of,” the other girl said.

“Girl, me and you both. Too bad his face is fucked up,” the first girl said mournfully.  “I’d climb him like a fucking tree and let him do whatever he wanted to me, but I don’t think I could wake up to that face every day.”

“Your face isn’t that great either,” Sansa snapped, and both girls jerked their heads in her direction, surprised that she had been eavesdropping.

“Bitch, this has nothing to do with you,” the first girl said. “I’m allowed to think a guy is ugly, for Seven’s sake.”

Sansa was shocked that she even said anything, but now her temper was getting the better of her. “So it’s fine to pant after him like a cat in heat one moment and then call him ugly the next?  Ever thought that maybe he doesn’t want to wake up next to a complete bitch?”

“Listen, you little…” the first girl jumped from her barstool and was in Sansa’s face before Sansa could get a grip on what was happening.

“Back the fuck away from my sister,” Arya was there as if she’d materialized from thin air, glaring the much taller girl down.

The girl spun around to say something, but the cold fury in Arya’s face stopped her. Strictly speaking, Arya should not have been someone that anyone was scared of.  She was barely five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds _maybe_ after a large meal.  But the fierceness in her expression made the girl back down.  She and her friend moved down to the end of the bar, whispering waspishly to one another and shooting glares at Sansa and Arya.

Arya rounded on her. “What the actual fuck are you doing?  You’ve never picked a fight with anyone!”

Sansa dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know!  She was just being such a bitch about Sandor and…”

Arya groaned. “He’s a very big boy and can take care of himself.  Besides, you’ve got bigger problems than some random drunk girl insulting your crush…”

“He is not my crush,” Sansa whispered furiously.

Arya then grasped Sansa’s seat at the top and spun her around towards the door. There, sitting at a high top table, staring at her in astonishment was Harry Hardyng.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me. Or kill me. Or stop reading. I may have led y'all to believe there would be a date in this chapter...but...
> 
> I was 100% dead serious when I said slow burn lol


	8. He has the kind of face that begs to be punched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sansa talk.
> 
> Sandor and Sansa don't....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter. Not a whole lot happening really except some introspection by Sandor that I thought was necessary. 
> 
> Also, I have NO idea why when you scroll past the story it's only showing 6 chapters when there were 7...maybe adding this chapter will fix that? I'm like computer stupid so...

Sansa couldn’t believe what she was staring at.  The object of her recent heartbreak, anger, frustration, and disappointment was not twenty feet away, rising from his chair as if coming to greet her.  She gripped Arya’s wrist tightly in her fingers to keep her from leaving.  Arya straightened her spine and pushed her shoulders back, sending a glare at Harry as he slowly moved over to Sansa.

“Sansa,” he breathed, and she felt a shiver run down her spine at the familiarity of his voice.  His clear blue eyes looked sad and he reached out a hand as if to touch her, then stole a glance at Arya and thought better of it.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa asked, having to raise her voice as the band started playing again.  Sansa gave Arya a nod, a look passing between them as Sansa let her know it was okay for her to step away.

Harry shrugged and indicated the table he left, which was now occupied by a couple of guys Sansa had never seen before.  “Just entertaining some of my boss’s friends.  He told me to take them out and get them drunk on his dime.”

Harry was in law school to become a corporate attorney, but in the meantime was employed by Joffrey’s uncle, Tyrion Lannister, who was not present, which surprised Sansa since he was so fond of drinking.  Tyrion was the CEO of Lannister Acquisitions and had offered Harry the job of being a glorified errand boy until he got through school.

“I’m surprised there isn’t a girl on your arm,” Sansa said.  She thought she may have said it too quietly for Harry to hear over the music, but the look on his face told her that he knew what she said.

He had the decency to look down at the floor, shameful.  “Sansa, I don’t want to fight with you.”  When he met her eyes again, he looked desperate.  “You have no idea how happy I am just to see you.  The chances of running into you by accident are slim…”

“Why _are_ you in Rosby?”  She asked suddenly.  It was a small town, after all.  Harry lived in King’s Landing in the small apartment they’d shared before Sansa had left him. 

Harry shrugged.  “Those guys didn’t want to pay three times as much for a hotel room in King’s Landing.  Hotels in Rosby are considerably cheaper than staying in the city.  So here we are…”  Harry trailed off, looking at her as though he wanted to ask something.

“What is it?”  Sansa sighed.

“Are you…on a date?”  He looked scared to hear the answer.  He hadn’t minded dating women while he was with Sansa, but he was worried she might have already moved on from him?  _The nerve_.  Sansa would have liked to tell him she was.  She recognized that a big part of her had hoped it would be something like a date, but it hadn’t turned out that way at all.  Maybe it was for the best.

“No,” she finally answered.  “I’m just here with Arya.”

Harry seemed to let out a breath of relief and ran his fingers through his golden hair.  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that.”

“Why is that?  I thought you may have already moved on with one of your numerous women,” Sansa hissed.

“I told you, San, I don’t want to fight.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t date.  I’m just saying that…I’m glad I didn’t stumble upon you while you were on a date.  Living without you,” he stepped closer to her, glancing around nervously, likely for Arya, “is torture.  I roll over in bed and expect you to be there and you’re not.  I come home at night expecting to see you on the couch, reading after you’ve put Lyanna to bed, and you’re not.  I pass by her room and all her stuff is in there, but she’s not.  It’s fucking torture.”

Sansa regarded him as calmly as she could, though she felt a well of emotion rising in her.  Outrage, hurt, sympathy, and longing, all of them fighting for which would surface.

“Torture is catching my fiancé with another woman.  Torture is hearing from other people what a player you are, realizing that I was the biggest fool that ever lived for not seeing you the way everyone else did. Torture is having all of my dreams completely crushed after I thought I’d found _the one_.”

Harry reached out to touch her, not stopping this time, and she allowed him to cup her cheek.  “Sansa, if I could take it all back I would.  This…”  Harry looked around again.  “Look, this isn’t the place for this.  I’ve…got to watch these two idiots and make sure they don’t get in any trouble.  Let me…see you.  Tomorrow?”

Sansa shook her head.  “I’m not ready to see you.  I wish I wasn’t seeing you right now.  I was fine, Harry.  _Fine_ until you showed up.”  Maybe she wasn’t quite fine, but she had been making great progress, getting there.  Now she felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff during a mudslide and couldn’t gain any traction.

Harry nodded.  “Then can I call you at least?  Or text?  Anything, Sansa.  I’d rather see you obviously, and hearing your voice is preferable to texting, but I’ll accept any crumb I can get right now.”

Sansa stared into those beautiful eyes that seemed so desperate, so _sincere_.  She wasn’t sure why he wanted to talk to her and she knew she wasn’t going back with him, but perhaps he just wanted to make peace and get some closure.  Maybe working toward forgiveness would help her as well.  Finally, she gave him a nod.  “You can call me tomorrow.”

Harry gave her a shaky smile, removing his hand from her cheek.  “I wish like hell I could hang out with you for the rest of the night, but these guys…”  He looked over his shoulder at his two drunk companions, who were now swaying in their seats, singing along with the band.

“It’s fine,” Sansa said.  Harry lingered a moment, as if he wanted to say something else or maybe lean over and hug her since he kept reaching out for her again, but finally he turned and rejoined his companions.

Arya was back a moment later.  “What the fuck did he want?”

Sansa shook her head and muttered, “Nothing important.”  She wasn’t ready to tell Arya she had agreed to talk to Harry.  Arya would be pissed.  Her younger sister lived off of rage and revenge when it came to people who hurt her loved ones, but Sansa struggled to hang on to anger when it just seemed to make her miserable.  She was the forgiving type and she knew that it was something that had always baffled Arya.

Arya watched her for a moment, then said, “You ready to go home?”

Sansa didn’t want to admit it, but she was.  Seeing Harry had drained her of all her energy and as early as it was, the summer sun still visible as it dipped toward the horizon, all she wanted was her bed and a glass of wine.  She gave Arya a nod.

Arya went to say good-bye to Gendry, who was getting quite busy as more people poured through the doors of the bar.  Sansa looked around for Sandor, but then gave up on it.  He had invited her just to be nice, she was sure.  She hadn’t really seen him much since she had gotten here and now she was certain that she had misinterpreted a friendly invitation to his bar as a signal that he might like her.  It didn’t matter now anyway.  An innocent crush was safe enough, but Sansa realized that it was probably too soon for dating.  _Too soon for any more disappointment._

***

(Sandor)

Sandor watched Sansa’s entire interaction with the handsome blonde from the safety of his office.  He had been about to take a break, finally gathering up enough courage to go talk to her, when a good-looking lad closer to Sansa’s age had approached her and her sister.

Watching Arya’s body language, he could tell she was being protective.  Her hands rested on her skinny little hips and her chin was jutted out as if accepting a challenge.  Sansa seemed to shrink like a dying flower when the man greeted her.  Sandor’s hackles rose, recognizing Sansa’s behavior as something she had done back when she had been with Joffrey.  The man wasn’t really giving off a violent air, but Sandor watched them all closely.  _He has the kind of face that begs to be punched_ , Sandor thought to himself.

Arya stomped off at some point, throwing a threatening look over her shoulder as Sansa chatted with the blonde man.  At first, Sandor had thought he was just a random guy trying to hit on a pretty girl.  _Gorgeous woman, more like_ , he corrected himself.  But the man had looked at Sansa pleadingly and hadn’t appeared all that happy.  Sandor surmised that the two of them knew each other and sensed that he was an old boyfriend.  _Might be the little lass’s dad._

Sansa left shortly afterward and Sandor has missed his chance to speak with her.  His bar probably wasn’t the best environment anyway, but he couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed seeing her in his domain.  _Got her in your house and in your bar all in one day, Hound.  Too bad you’re so far beneath her that it won’t ever amount to much._

He wasn’t stupid.  He was fully aware that she had checked him out a couple of times, but it was no different than the empty-headed women that always checked him out.  Their eyes would slide over his body with hunger, but when they got to his face, most of them didn’t do a great job of hiding their repulsion.  It wasn’t as bad as it once had been due to a couple of surgeries, but the scar covered from his scalp down to his jaw, so there was no hiding it.  The full beard and long hair did a fairly decent job of hiding the ruin of his jaw and cheek, but there was nothing he could do to cover up the twisted mass of scar tissue around his eye.

Sandor knew he could probably get laid if he was really desperate, but he didn’t seek it out so much anymore.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have the urge.  He was made just like any other red-blooded male and enjoyed the female anatomy as much as anyone.  But why would he put himself through the same scenario over and over again when he could do just as well with his hand without having his ugly mug ogled at?

He had plenty of success with lovers in the dark of night when they didn’t have to see his face, but the high of being able to satisfy a woman only offered an even further fall when the lights came back on.  He had lived with the mess on his face for thirty years, and mayhap he should have been accustomed to the reaction by now, and he was to a point…but he was also so tired of being reminded that no woman would ever look at him without feeling shock, or pity, or disgust.

Sandor wasn’t even sure why he was so drawn to Sansa.  He was normally content to admire good looking women from afar and leave it at that.  But for some reason, way before Sansa had ever moved next door, way back when she was Joffrey’s girlfriend, he had found himself seeking her out.  She was uncommonly beautiful, sure, but he didn’t think that was what drove the obsession initially.

Sandor had been around plenty of women who were blessed with beauty, Cersei Lannister Baratheon being a prime example.  And like Cersei, Sandor had expected Sansa to use that beauty as a weapon.  She could have made men fall to her feet and crushed their hearts in her palm.  But she was nothing like Cersei.  She was kind, and polite, and surprisingly bashful.

It didn’t take Sandor long to realize Joffrey was going to eat the girl alive.  He watched them those first few months, Joffrey putting on his best show as the devoted boyfriend, and grew angrier and angrier at Sansa’s naivety.  He found himself insulting her intelligence, calling her an empty-headed bird who could only chirp niceties.

He hated himself for it.  He wanted her to see things for how they were, not through rose-colored glasses.  But Sansa couldn’t bear to look at him.  She was so visibly frightened by him that part of him wanted to do her a favor and spare her the sight of his horrific face; but the meaner part of him couldn’t help but poke the wound.  It was as though, like Joffrey, he was drawn to torment her, only whereas Joffrey tormented her by physically and emotionally abusing her, the Hound tormented her by his presence.

He watched the once-vibrant, beautiful little bird slowly die inside until all that was left was a pretty shell. 

When she had popped back into his life, so different, so much stronger than he remembered, he found that she wasn’t any less magnetic.  He still couldn’t keep away from her.  And now, he had made friends with her kid.

_I’m so fucked_.


	9. I can't play these games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Sandor and Harry get under Sansa's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there isn't a whole lot going on between SanSan, I decided to go ahead and post this chapter. I have 16 chapters written so far, but have been trying to pace myself with posting, but considering the next few chapters are just laying groundwork for our favorite couple, I may post a little more than I normally would. Plus, I'm going to be out of town for awhile at the end of the month, so it will definitely be slow that week. Maybe I can make up for it before then :)
> 
> 2 chapters in a day will NOT be the norm though :)

Catelyn and Ned dropped Lyanna off early in the afternoon on Sunday after having taken her to Sept.  She was dressed up in a ruffled dress with shiny white dress shoes and a matching hairbow sitting atop her head.  She wasn’t thrilled with the outfit.

As soon as Ned and Catelyn left, Lyanna was tugging at the bow trying to get it off her head until Sansa acquiesced.  “Shoes off!”  Lyanna demanded, sitting down and tugging at the little slippers.

Sansa watched in amusement, wondering how in the world her child could be so much more like Arya than herself.  _Maybe Arya will have one like me_ , Sansa thought mischievously.

Pupcake was overjoyed to see her little girl, licking whatever part of Lyanna she could reach, her tail wagging so violently Sansa wondered at the fact it didn’t fall off.  When Pupcake’s little claws started making pulls in the lace of Lyanna’s dress, Sansa lifted her daughter and took her to her bedroom to change her clothes. Then she sent daughter and pup to play in the backyard as she sat on the deck, watching them and contemplating what she would say to Harry when he called.

Sansa hadn’t slept well the night before.  Making the decision to leave Harry had been difficult, but once she was gone she had been confident that she could find her way without him in her life.  She knew objectively that she didn’t need him.  She could support herself and Lyanna well enough, especially after she finished school.  But she loved him.  Even now, after knowing what he had done, it didn’t shut off her feelings.  Sansa had hoped that once the initial shock and hurt had worn off from Harry’s transgressions, that she would find that she was better off without him, maybe find that she hadn’t loved him that much after all.

She’d been wrong.

Despite all Harry’s faults, he had saved her.  Maybe not in the physical way that Sandor had saved her life after the last beating, but he had saved her soul.  Sansa had come out of her relationship with Joffrey beaten down.  She felt stupid for having stayed with him for as long as she did.  She felt ugly because Joffrey had looked at her in disgust.  She felt unworthy because Joffrey had been the first serious boyfriend she’d had, and clearly she had done something to deserve that treatment from him.

Harry had come along and told her she was beautiful.  He had told her she was smart and funny.  True, when they had first met he had tried to downplay how attracted he was to her, but taking her low self-esteem for disinterest, he had upped his game and practically begged her to go on a date with him.  Sansa, surprised to be receiving attention from someone as handsome and nice as Harry, had readily accepted.  Any kind of positive attention she received after Joffrey shocked her.

The problem with Harry was that from the get-go, he had a wandering eye.  Sansa largely ignored it for the first year.  Harry treated her like a princess and she told herself that she didn’t mind him looking.  But when Sansa found out she was pregnant around the time of their first anniversary, she found that Harry’s wandering eye began bothering her more.  As far as she knew at the time, he never acted on it.  Sansa put it off on her pregnancy hormones making her have less patience with his imperfections.

The first time Harry cheated that Sansa knew of was after Lyanna had been born.  Unable to have sex for six weeks after Lyanna’s birth, apparently Harry had found him someone to meet his needs.  Sansa had been crushed when she found out.  Between his infidelity and her new momma blues, she was a crying mess for weeks.  But she never thought of leaving him.  Even though that first year of Lyanna’s life was miserable as far as her relationship with Harry went, she kept telling herself to stick it out, that it would get better.  And it did get better.  And Harry never once indicated that he wanted to leave her either.

After Lyanna’s first birthday, Sansa’s relationship with Harry went back to normal.  He was a sweet, doting boyfriend.  He was stand-offish with Lyanna, but Sansa figured he was just not used to being around small children.  He certainly seemed to adore his daughter, at least from afar.  He was constantly showing pictures and videos of her to his friends and co-workers, commenting how smart and pretty his little girl was.

When he proposed on Sansa’s twenty-second birthday, Sansa had eagerly agreed.  She had immediately begun planning a wedding, but Harry shied away from discussing a date for the wedding or any of the other details.  A year after being engaged, Harry had admitted that he wasn’t quite ready to get married.  He cited law school and Sansa’s own unfinished education for his decision to want to put it off.  Sansa, though disappointed, conceded that he was right.  Law school was stressful and adding a wedding to that just wasn’t a great idea.  Things had seemed okay between them though, until Sansa had learned of another one-night stand.

Afterward, Sansa was numb.  Unlike the first time she had learned Harry had cheated, she didn’t cry and scream and tell him how much he’d hurt her.  She had faced him with dry eyes and a cold expression, telling him that she was let down, disappointed.  He had apologized again and agreed that they should go to couple’s therapy.  The therapist, a woman in her early thirties, seemed immediately taken with Harry’s charm and put off by Sansa’s coldness.  She had told Sansa at a private session between the two of them that maybe Harry’s transgressions were just part of his personality that Sansa should accept.  Sansa had stopped going to her afterwards, but then she wondered if the therapist had been right.

Harry seemed almost perfect, save for his cluelessness about his own child and his immense attraction to anything with tits.  Sansa tried to reason with herself that maybe this was his personality flaw and that they would just need to work through it.  They were both still so young, Sansa only twenty-three and Harry only two years older.  Maybe once Harry had grown up a bit more, perhaps once he was done with the stress of law school, he could focus more on being a family man than getting in some woman’s pants that he didn’t belong in.

But meeting a woman with his toddler in the car had been too much.  Sansa had barely spoken to him, just packed the few things she could fit in her car and went straight to her parent’s house.  She and Harry hadn’t really talked about it, and as far as Sansa was concerned, there was nothing to say.  Clearly, Harry felt differently, since he seemed desperate to speak with her.

Sansa was so lost in thought that she hardly registered that Sandor had come outside with Stranger and was now standing at the fence while Lyanna chattered to him.  Pupcake was desperately trying to jump the fence and Stranger sat watching her, as though amused at the smaller dog’s attempt to escape.  Sansa grabbed her phone and headed down the fence.

“Hey,” she said quietly, interrupting Lyanna’s babbling and earning her a stern look from her daughter.

Sandor nodded to her, barely looking at her, as Lyanna continued telling him about _My Little Pony_.  Sansa leaned over the fence to give Stranger a pat and the big dog licked at her hand. 

“Momma says Pinky Pie like me ‘cause she loud,” Lyanna explained.  “But I like Twilight.”

“And what color is Twilight?” Sandor asked politely.

“Purple!”

“What about Pinky Pie?”

“She’s pink, you silly goose!”

Lyanna ran off to play in the dirt, her puppy at her heels.  Sandor turned to go back to his porch, but Sansa said, “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for running off last night without saying good-bye.  I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He shook his head.  “You weren’t.  I wouldn’t expect any other customer to tell me when they left.”

Sansa felt a twinge of disappointment at that.  “Well, I just…you invited me and I felt like I should have thanked you for…inviting me,” she finished lamely. 

He was looking at her with that bored expression.  “It’s a bar, Sansa. It’s public.  You didn’t need an invitation.”

Now she was feeling embarrassed.  She wasn’t sure how to deal with Sandor when he seemed to be going out of his way to make the conversation awkward.

His eyes left her face then, looking beyond her, maybe towards Lyanna, when he said, “Seems like you found someone to go home with.  Can’t fault you for that.  Hook-ups are what bars are for, after all.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped open and she goggled at him, hardly able to believe that had come out of his mouth.  _Why did he think I went home with someone?_

“I didn’t leave with anyone,” she said, defensively.  “Why would you think that?”

Sandor raised an eyebrow at her.  “The pretty blonde lad that was making eyes at you, for one.  He left right after you did.  Figured the two of you found somewhere quiet to _talk_ ,” he sneered, the way he said ‘talk’ left no illusion to what he actually meant.

Sansa felt that anger rise in her that was becoming so familiar when dealing with Sandor.  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t leave bars with strange men.”

His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.  “He didn’t seem like a stranger.  Did you not know him?”

“How much did you see exactly?”  Sansa asked suddenly.

He shrugged.  “I watch everything from my office.  Your sister is an aggressive little shit and I was just making sure she wasn’t going to beat him up.”

“Well, I did know him,” Sansa finally answered.  “He’s Lyanna’s dad.  My ex-boyfriend.”

Sandor nodded, as if this wasn’t necessarily unexpected news.  “Looked to me like he still likes you.”

Sansa did not want to have this conversation, but was unsure exactly how to cut it off.  Thankfully, Harry did that for her as at that moment, her phone lit up with his phone call.  She looked down at it in her hand, Harry’s bright smile looking up at her from her screen.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this,” she said, backing away from the fence and calling Lyanna and Pupcake inside. 

She told Harry to hold on while she got the two girls situated with a snack after cleaning Lyanna’s hands, and took her phone call in the bedroom.  Finally alone, she lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Harry,” she said, letting a heavy breath loose.

“Hey, Sansa,” he said, more softly.  “I’m really glad you answered the phone.”

“I told you I would.  What is it that you want, Harry?”

“Just to hear your voice, really.  It was amazing seeing you last night, Sansa.  I wish it had been under different circumstances.”

“If you would come see your daughter, you would see me more often as well,” Sansa said, allowing some of her bitterness to leak into her words.

He was quiet for a moment.  “I don’t know how to be around her right now.  I’m afraid she’s…disappointed in me.  I don’t want her to hate me.”

“She’s not even three yet, Harry.  She’s very forgiving and she needs her dad.  You’re doing more damage by staying away than you would by facing any questions she might have.  I doubt she’d have any though.  She’s smart, but she likely doesn’t know where all you’ve been putting your dick.”

Language like that was not customary for Sansa, but she found that she was just done with excuses.

“I haven’t put my dick in anything since you left,” Harry snapped back.  “I don’t know how many times I need to say that I _don’t want to argue_.  I would say I’m sorry, but you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

“You should say it anyway,” Sansa told him, her voice low and cold, giving no indication of anxiety that had a hold of her at that moment.  Between her conversation with Sandor that had left her uneasy, and the conversation with Harry that was only serving to make her feel worse, she was feeling a bit unbalanced by it all.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding exasperated and not all that sincere.

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” Sansa replied petulantly. 

“If I could do it over, I would never look at another woman, Sansa.  Is it not clear that I want to be with you?  Why would I fight a losing battle if I didn’t want you?”

“Maybe you wanted me, but you also want something on the side.  We have a child, Harry.  I can’t play these games.” 

Harry was quiet on the other end, seemingly accepting that she was right.  There was nothing to say really.  He might want her, but he didn’t love her enough to stay away from other women.  The reality of the situation was like a heavy weight pressing on Sansa’s chest.  The hopelessness of their relationship had been cast into the light now, and there was nothing either of them could do to cover it up.

“I want a relationship with my kid, Sansa,” he said after a few moments of silence.  “I know I don’t deserve you, but I deserve a shot with Lyanna.  Don’t cut me out of her life.”

“I won’t, Harry.  I wouldn’t.  I’ve never tried to.  You can see her when you want.”

Harry was quiet for several minutes, then said, “Sometime this week?  If you can send the address to where you’re staying, I’ll set up a time in the next couple of days.”

Sansa hesitated a moment, unsure if she actually wanted Harry at her house.  She didn’t mind meeting him at a park or at a fast food restaurant, but letting him into her new home?  But then, it wasn’t as though he was like Joffrey.  He wasn’t going to stalk her or show up announced.

“Alright,” she agreed.  “I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing extraordinary happened in the next couple of days.  Sansa went to school and work, Lyanna went to Three School, and they came home in the evenings to play outside, eat supper together, and take care of Pupcake.  They chatted with Sandor when they saw him outside and on Wednesday he presented Lyanna with a dog toy to give to Pupcake. 

Harry hadn’t made any arrangements yet, and Sansa wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment.  She hadn’t told Lyanna that her dad would visit her, just in case he chickened out.  But Sansa desperately wanted Harry to have a relationship with his kid.  Lyanna looked so much like Harry that Sansa was baffled how he could just ignore her.

On Thursday evening, Sansa was sitting outside while Lyanna chatted with Sandor as usual.  It was getting later in the evening and he was dressed in a similar outfit to the one he’d worn Saturday, so she guessed he was about to leave for work.  She walked over as Lyanna chatted with him, this time about Spongebob Squarepants.

“He lives in a pineapple,” Lyanna informed Sandor.

“I like pineapples,” Sandor told her.  “Very tasty.”

“You can’t eat his house,” Lyanna mock-scolded him, unable to hide her smirk.

“What if I’m really, really hungry?  I’m a big boy, I need lots of food.”

“You can go to Krusty Krab!”

“Ah, yes.  Perfect solution.”

Lyanna got quiet for a moment, looking off in careful contemplation that looked quite amusing on a toddler’s face.  “I wish I live in sea.  I like water.”

Sandor was squatted by the fence and Sansa watched him study her face.  He never stood up when Lyanna came to talk to him because the kid would’ve never been able to see his face.  And since Lyanna had never shown any kind of aversion to his scars, he seemed comfortable with looking her in the eyes.

“You like water, hmm?  Do you even know how to swim?”

Lyanna gave him a very offended look, “Yes, I swim!”

“With floaties?”

She shook her head so violently her little pigtails smacked each side of her face.  “I big girl, San-more.  Babies wear floaties.”

He shot a look up at Sansa and she smirked down at him, giving him a nod of confirmation.  “It’s true.  She’s been swimming for nearly two years.  She took to the water like a fish, so I put her in lessons.  We had a pool at our old apartment complex, and my parents have a pool, so she’s used to swimming a lot.”

“You miss your pool, huh kid?”

She nodded, looking down at Pupcake.  “I bet Pupcake would swim good.”

Sandor nodded.  “I bet she would too.”

Sansa’s phone buzzed with a text then, and she glanced at it.  It was Harry.  Stepping away a few feet, she opened her messages.

**Harry:  can I see her tmrw?**

_Sansa:  Sure.  We don’t get home til after 4 usually._

**Harry:  It won’t be that early.  Can I come over around 6?**

_Sansa:  Sure._

Sansa put her phone away and, noting the time, told Lyanna to bid Sandor good-bye since he had to leave for work.  She waved a chubby little hand at him, blew a kiss to Stranger, and Sansa led her in the house, trying to fight off the rising anxiety she was feeling.


	10. Don't settle, Little Bird.  That's the best you can do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor have a more civil conversation.
> 
> Harry visits.

The next afternoon after Sansa and Lyanna had gotten home, Sansa busied herself with planning Lyanna’s little birthday party for the next weekend.  It was going to be small, just her family and maybe Harry, if he decided to show up, and of course Sandor.  She had considered inviting some of Lyanna’s friends from Three School, but had ultimately decided that she wasn’t ready to commit to chasing around a bunch of preschoolers.

They ate a simple supper of hotdogs grilled on Sansa’s griddle and afterward, Lyanna sat in the front living room, watching television while Pupcake snuggled in her lap.  Sansa sat on the side porch, trying to get together all of the details of the party, but her nerves were getting to her.  Finally, she stood up and stretched, then gave in to the need to pace the small porch, trying to collect her thoughts.

She had a feeling that Harry’s visit wasn’t as innocent as he’d like her to believe.  The way he’d looked at that night at Sandor’s bar had spelled out pretty clearly that he still wanted to be with her.  She was so angry with him still that she wasn’t sure she could put aside her bitterness for his visit.

Sansa had always prided herself on forgiveness and being able to be mature when others couldn’t quite manage it, but the feelings of hurt and betrayal were so fresh that she knew she would struggle with it.  She had thought about telling Arya that Harry was coming over, if only to have someone to vent to, but she knew Arya would say something along the lines of _“tell Harry to fuck off”_.

Speaking with Catelyn was out of the question.  While Sansa believed there was power in forgiveness, Catelyn’s belief was that Sansa should forgive _and forget_ and accept Harry’s flaws.  Flaws were one thing, but repeated unfaithfulness was where Sansa chose to draw the line. 

She even thought of getting an outside opinion and had even had a strange compulsion to talk to Sandor about it.  But of course, he wouldn’t give a damn about her relationship drama.  She was still irritated with him for assuming she’d go home with someone when she’d gone to his bar on his invitation to spend time with him.  No, mixing the anxiety Sandor caused her with the anxiety Harry caused her may not be the best idea.  Her nerves getting the better of her, she continued to pace her porch, dreading Harry’s arrival.

***

(Sandor)

Friday night, Sandor had just finished getting ready for work when he decided to follow Stranger out.  He didn’t have to, Stranger was well-trained to stay in the yard even though he could clear the fence, but Sandor liked sitting on his porch enjoying the quiet neighborhood.  Usually, Sansa and the little lass were outside about this time as well.  He was a little disappointed to see that there was no short, blonde haired toddler standing at his fence. 

In anticipation of getting some pats and scratches, Stranger had galloped over to the fence and looked similarly deflated when his friends weren’t there.  Then he looked up the driveway and gave a soft “whuff” and cocked his head to the side.  Sandor got up to go investigate what he was looking at, worried it might be a cat that Stranger found a bit too enticing.

When Sandor peered around the side of his house, he saw Sansa pacing the length of her small side porch, back and forth, seemingly talking to herself.  Sandor looked down at Stranger, gave him a pat, then unlatched the gate.  He strode toward the porch curiously, wondering what had the Little Bird in such a state.

She saw him as he approached her steps and jumped a little, laying a hand on her chest as if he had startled her.

“You okay?”  He rasped, studying the look of worry marring her normally flawless face. 

She let loose a huge sigh and dropped down into her chair.  “Lyanna’s dad is coming to visit.”

“Pretty blonde lad from the bar?”  Sandor questioned unnecessarily.  Sansa had already told him the identity of the good-looking stranger, but he couldn’t help jabbing at his squeaky good looks a little.

Sansa just nodded, ignoring the backhanded compliment.

“You’re wearing a hole in your porch because of him?”

Sansa chewed on her lip, looking as though she wanted to tell him what was going on, but holding back because of the gravity of the situation.

Sandor felt his brows pull down into a scowl.  “Is he…unkind to you?”

Sansa’s eyes shot to his face, widening dramatically.  “Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that.  He isn’t like Joffrey, if that’s what you’re worried about.  I…mean, not to imply that you’re _worried_ about me…”

Sandor had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.  _Maybe if you hadn’t been such a dick to her lately she wouldn’t find it so unbelievable that you care, you damn dog._  

“As long as he’s never touched you.  I have a problem with anyone who raises a hand to their partner, not just your ex,” he said.

“He never has,” Sansa assured him.  “It’s just…I’m not sure how much I want to see him.  He isn’t coming for me per se.  He’s supposed to be coming to see Lyanna, only…I know that it’s for my benefit.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Sandor gave a nod.  “Aye, I get the gist.  Only wants to see the wee lass because he thinks it will put him in your good graces?”  Sansa gave a nod as confirmation.  “I get it.  Plenty like him.  Why did you agree to it?”

She dropped her chin into her hands, elbows propped on her knees.  “I want Lyanna to have a relationship with her daddy.  I’ve always been so close to my dad.  I couldn’t imagine having to grow up without him.  I know that makes me sound sheltered and childish…I know there are so many people that only have one parent, or none, but…I want it all for her.  And Harry is alive and well.  Is it too much to ask that he make her a priority?”

Sandor cleared his throat.  “No, Little Bird.  She has two healthy parents, both of you should be focusing on her.  It’s clear that you do.”  He paused, unsure if he should pry any more, but he was just too curious.  “How come it didn’t work out?”

Sansa stared off down the road, seemingly not focusing on anything and not wanting to meet his eyes.  “It didn’t work out because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”  The language she used almost startled him, though he knew it didn’t show on his face.  She sounded bitter, but he admitted that she had a good reason to be that way. 

_What kind of dumb fuck cheats on Sansa Stark?_

He really wanted to tell her that the little cunt never deserved her, that she never deserved anything but to be adored and respected and treated gently.  He couldn’t say that though because he knew she’d look at him in disbelief, like he was a hypocrite.  He was anything but gentle.  He had never treated anyone with adoration, so how would he know how she should be treated?

But he knew that if he were in that situation, there was no other woman that would turn his head.  Seven Hells, Sansa was not his, had never been his, and never would be his, but even so, other women didn’t turn his head now.  Not for the first time, he tried to figure out why sweet, gentle, loving Sansa was drawn to such terrible people.

“Sounds like a foolish boy,” he finally growled, trying to keep his temper at bay.

Sansa nodded in agreement.  “I guess that’s what it amounts to.  He’s too immature to be in a serious relationship.  He just turned twenty six though.  How much more times does he need to grow up?”

Sandor cocked his head to the side, studying her.  “How old are you, Little Bird?”

“Twenty-three,” she answered wearily, sounding much older than that.  She met his eyes finally, “What about you?  I’ve known you for years and I’ve never been able to even guess your age.  Your looks haven’t changed much.”

Sandor snorted.  “Pity they haven’t.  I’m thirty-six.  Guess men mature slower than women. I was over thirty before I finally got my shit together and opened my bar.”

“Well, before then you worked for the Baratheons.  I imagined it paid decent…”

He nodded.  “Aye, decent pay, and for what?  To babysit a sociopath and watch a little girl have the life sucked from her?”

Sansa studied him carefully for several moments without saying anything, to the point where he was getting mildly uncomfortable.  “Is that how you saw me, Sandor?  As a little girl?”

_What an odd fucking question_.  He gave a shrug, looked away from those icy blue eyes.  “You were, weren’t you?  Fifteen, sixteen years old?”

Sansa nodded.  “I suppose I was.”

His eyes found hers again.  “Might be you had to grow up quicker than most girls.”

She nodded to that as well.  “Thanks to Joffrey.  Though I suppose getting pregnant barely out of my teens helped to throw me into adulthood as well.  And dealing with Harry…he’s never hit me though.  He’s never even screamed at me.”

“Doesn’t excuse his behavior, Sansa,” Sandor tried to assure her because honestly, she looked so unsure of herself.

“I know,” she said quietly.  “It’s just…what if he comes over tonight and he’s just as charming and perfect as he was in the beginning?  It’s like I have to keep reminding myself that he hurt me and that it was preventable and that I _don’t_ deserve to have my trust broken like that.  But what if Harry is the best I can do?”

Sandor had an urge to tell her that she was wrong, that she would find someone who would treat her the way she deserved, that not all men were like Joffrey or Harry, but he wasn’t a liar.  He couldn’t promise her that there would ever be anyone who would deserve her, just like he could never tell himself that one day there would be someone for him that would accept him, scars, temper, and all.

Instead, he said, “The best you can do is to take care of yourself and the wee lass.  Don’t settle, Little Bird.  That’s the best you can do.”

Sansa met his eyes and gave him a small smile.  “Thanks,” she said quietly.  She studied him thoughtfully for a moment.  “You shouldn’t settle either.”

Sandor snorted.  “Never have.  I’ve been resigned to being alone for years now.  It’s better than living a lie.”

Something in what he said must have bothered her because her small smile fell and the corners of her pretty mouth turned downward.  Sandor was at a loss at why his words had caused that reaction, but before he could question it, a black sports car pulled into the driveway.  Sandor tensed as he watched the good-looking blonde kid with the punch-able face get out of the car.

The man’s eyes swung from Sandor to Sansa and back.  The man-child gave a start when he got a better look at Sandor’s scars.  Sansa stood quickly from her chair and stepped off the porch.  She met Harry at his car, where he hadn’t moved since laying eyes on Sandor.

Harry finally looked down at Sansa, something in his face Sandor couldn’t quite read.

“Forget I was coming?” Harry asked her in a clipped tone.

Sansa shook her head and Sandor imagined she must have looked confused, but he couldn’t see her face.  “No, of course not…”

“But you have company?”  Harry gave a jerk of the head toward Sandor, only briefly looking up to catch his eye.

Sansa looked back at him, her brow furrowing.  She turned back to Harry, “No, he’s my neighbor.”  She took his hand then, and Sandor had to fight down an inexplicable urge to smash Harry’s face into something.

Sansa pulled Harry over to them.  “Harry, this is Sandor.  I don’t know if you remember me telling you, but he’s the one who got me away from Meryn Trant and Joffrey that night that I was beaten so badly.”

Harry seemed to relax a bit, stuck his hand out.  Sandor stared at it for a moment, before grudgingly taking it, giving it a harder squeeze than was strictly necessary.

Harry winced, taking his hand back. “Nice to meet you, sir.  I’m Harrold Hardyng.”

Sandor nodded, but didn’t return the greeting.  Instead, he looked at Sansa.  “I’m off to work, Little Bird.  Tell the wee lass Stranger missed her.”

***

(Sansa)

Sansa watched Sandor leave before finally remembering Harry was standing next to her, staring at her in confusion.

“So your next door neighbor is the guy who nearly beat two people to death?”  Harry raised a brow at her.  “Shouldn’t he be in jail or something?”

Sansa turned an angry scowl on Harry.  “No, not since he saved my life.  Besides, he only beat Meryn Trant nearly to death.  He only hit Joffrey once from what I gathered.”  She turned on her heel and went into the house, not waiting for Harry to follow her. 

Lyanna jumped up when he entered and her little eyes went wide.  “Daddy?”

Harry gave his daughter a 100-watt grin and bent down to her level, holding out his arms.  Lyanna hesitated only a moment before she slowly walked into his embrace.  Harry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, but Sansa could tell Lyanna was uncertain.  Her arms were still at her side and she was looking Sansa in discomfort.

When he let her go, he said, “How have you been, my princess?”

“Okay,” Lyanna said quietly, nodding her head as if to reassure him.  “I got a Pupcake.”  She turned and pointed to the puppy, who was sitting on the couch with her little head cocked to the side in fascination at the new arrival.  Sansa glared at the puppy, secretly wondering why she hadn’t barked to alert a stranger.  _This one is useless as a watch dog_.

“A Pupcake?”  Harry gave a laugh, ruffling Lyanna’s hair.  “Did you give her that name?”

Lyanna nodded, patting her hair back down where he dad had touched it.  “Like cupcake, but her’s a puppy.”

“Of course,” Harry said, “Makes sense to me.”

The rest of his visit passed much the same way.  Harry was doing well at making conversation with Lyanna, and the little girl seemed to warm up to him the more time he spent with her.  It was odd, Sansa thought, as she sat there watching them.  She hadn’t realized just how avoidant Harry had been of Lyanna when they all lived in the same house.  He was always leaving early and coming home late, and any social outings that Sansa attended with Harry were usually just the two of them while Lyanna stayed with a sitter.

How was it that their daughter was nearly three years old and only had a casual relationship with her dad?  And how had Sansa never realized it until after she had left Harry?

Sansa had spent the years since Lyanna’s birth devoting her life to her.  She had either taken semesters off from school completely or had taken such a small load the first two years of Lyanna’s life that she was still only a junior in college.  She had stayed home with her and chosen not to work since Harry was always gone to either school or work.  She had, until very recently, declined most offers from her family to babysit Lyanna because she wanted to be with her all the time.

Harry had given their daughter no such devotion and, though Sansa had always realized it on some level, now it made her angry. 

_He’s trying now.  Can’t get mad_ now _when he’s actually putting in the effort._

Still, the damage was done and Sansa was sore at him.  When it came time for him to leave, he pressed a kiss to Lyanna’s forehead and Sansa went to walk him out as Lyanna stood at the door, watching them.

“Thank you for letting me see her,” he said, and then hesitantly pulled her into an awkward side hug.

She gave him a pat on the back and pulled away quickly.  “I wouldn’t keep her from you, Harry.  You can see her whenever you want.”

He nodded.  “Next week?”

“Sure.  I’m having her birthday party next Saturday, just family, but you can see her before then, if you’d like.”

“I’d like to try,” he said.  Then, “And not just with Lyanna.”

Sansa’s eyes shot to his, knowing his meaning without him having to spell it out.  She shook her head.  “Harry, please don’t do this.  Not right now.  Not when you’ve just had a visit with her.  Don’t make this about us.”

Harry grumbled in frustration.  “Sansa, I’m not trying to use my visit with her to get to you.  I’m not.  I’m just…trying to tell you how I feel.”

Sansa took several steps away from him.  “I don’t want to hear it.  I’m not ready for that.”

Harry gave her an anguished look, before tearing his eyes away, his shoulders slumping.  “Okay.  I’ll leave you alone then.  Thanks again for letting me see her. I’ll get with you in a few days to see when I can come back.”

Sansa didn’t even answer him as she climbed the stairs back up to her porch and watched him drive away, the warmth of his small embrace still making her tingle.

_Harry, why can’t you just leave me alone?_


	11. I would never hurt you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna gets a new nanny.

Sansa knew it was going to be a bad week when she walked into work Monday and ran right into another student worker who was carrying a coffee. The hot, dark liquid splashed onto her white blouse, soaking through to her skin, causing her to yelp in pain.  She ran to the bathroom, stripped off her shirt, and rinsed her skin with cool water. 

She retrieved a hoodie from her bag, which did not go with the blue skirt she was wearing at all, and pulled it on. When she walked into Professor Baelish’s office, she caught his amused smirk and the twitch of an eyebrow at her outfit.  Sansa sighed heavily, unsure if she wanted to explain.

“Ms. Stark, can you come in for a moment. I need to speak with you about your schedule,” Baelish said, finally tearing his eyes away from her to flip through a calendar.

Sansa approached his desk, sitting on the opposite side, wondering what he meant. What did he care about her class schedule?  He didn’t teach any of her classes, nor was he her advisor.

“One of the other student workers needs your hours, Sansa…” He started, to which Sansa leapt up.

“Professor, I can’t give up any hours. I have a small child that depends on my little pay check…”

Baelish held up a hand to silence her and she sat back down, still a bit panicked.

“That’s not what I meant, Sansa. I mean, the other student needs your _shift._ So I’m changing your hours to 3:00 until 7:00.”

“Oh,” Sansa nodded, and then shook her head. “But I can’t do that.  My daughter’s after-school program only goes until 5:00.  I don’t have anyone else to keep her all the time.”

Baelish sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stark, but Ros really needs your shift.  She has another job she has to report to at 5:00.  That will give her a couple of hours…”

“What about my daughter?” Sansa asked quietly.

“You have an extensive family, Sansa. I’m sure one of your siblings or your mother would keep her.”

Sansa shook her head. “My mother lives in King’s Landing, you know that.  Arya is the only one of my siblings who lives in Rosby and she works too.”

“I’m sure you will figure it out, Sansa,” Baelish assured her, turning his attention back to the stack of papers on his desk. “Now, I need those tests from last week graded.  Good day, Ms. Stark.”

By the time Sansa got home and peeled off the hoodie, she was pouring sweat, both because it was far too hot to wear a hoodie and because her nerves were getting the better of her.

_What do I do? Arya can’t watch her every day._

Lyanna had an after-school snack and as usual, Sansa found herself sitting on the back deck, watching as the two of them played, trying to find a way around her predicament.

Sandor came out with Stranger, and instead of Lyanna rushing over to him first, it was Sansa. She hadn’t seen him since Friday night, which was really odd.  Normally, she saw him every day, but she hadn’t even seen his motorcycle in the driveway.

He met her at the fence when she gestured for him to come over.

“What?” He rasped.

“Well, I just wanted to ask you a question because I’m in a bit of a bind…” Sansa stopped herself, deciding to allow her curiosity to come out. “Where were you all weekend?”

“That’s what you had to ask me?” His eyes narrowed.  “Why is that important?”

“Ugh, never mind. That’s not the question I had.  You wouldn’t happen to know someone around here who babysits, would you?”

“Why do you need a babysitter? Isn’t she in daycare?”

“ _Three School_ ,” Sansa corrected, not wanting to explain why daycare and preschool were obviously different.  “Anyway, I’ve had a schedule change at work, and now the after-school care won’t work.  You’re always hanging around a bunch of college girls…know any that would be interested in babysitting that are reliable and trustworthy?”

He leveled a look at her that told her something about her question was off. “Little Bird, I don’t hang around college girls, other than you, if that counts.  And you’re going to trust some 18 to 22 year old stranger you’ve never met to watch your kid?”

Sansa felt her shoulders slump. “Kind of desperate,” she squeaked.  “My new hours start tomorrow because the _other girl’s_ new job starts tomorrow.  I won’t get off until 7:00.”

Sandor shook his head, looking off toward where Lyanna was rolling around in the grass. “You can’t bring in some strange woman to watch your kid.”

Sansa groaned. “I don’t need a lecture right now.  I really don’t.  I understand you think I’m a terrible mother with terrible judgment, but I’ve got to keep my job!”

Sandor did that intimidating thing where he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her, only he must not have realized that it didn’t really work on Sansa. She crossed her arms too and gave him a look of pure exasperation.

They glared at one another for a few moments. “What if I agreed to watch her?”  Sandor asked.

Sansa blinked up at him in confusion. “What?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders, his eyes finding Lyanna again. “I could watch her til you get off.  If you want.  I know I’m not the ideal baby-sitter, but…”

“You’d do that?”

Sandor looked uncomfortable and wouldn’t meet her eyes, but nodded. “Better than you leaving her with someone you don’t know.”

“But how…what about your job? Aren’t you usually at work by 7:00?”

“Usually,” he said, “But I can be a few minutes late. That’s one of the perks of being the boss.”

Sansa was so overcome with gratitude that she leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck, completely forgetting that the fence was between them. “OW!”  She screeched when the top of the fence cut into her.  “Damn it!”

“Language!” Lyanna hollered at her, and she saw a smile tug at Sandor’s mouth.

“Don’t laugh at me!” She hissed, reaching beneath her shirt to check for damage.

Sandor’s eyes widened at the band of white skin she was showing him at her belly and he turned away.

_Not like you’ve never seen skin before, buddy_.

Forgetting her injury, Sansa walked around the fence and let herself into his backyard, Sandor giving her a strange look the whole way. Then, she properly launched herself at him without the danger of the fence.  Her arms circled around his neck and she was barely balancing on her tiptoes until she felt his arms go around her waist, holding her up.

“Thank you, thank you,” she whispered again and again. It was such a small thing.  A few hours during the week, watching her kid, helping her out, but Sansa was overwhelmed with gratitude.

He patted her awkwardly on the back. “It’s fine, Sansa.  Really,” he said calmly.

Sansa tried to look up at him, but he was staring over her head, looking perplexed. It wasn’t a look she could ever remember him wearing.  She wanted to laugh, but then she was suddenly aware that her arms were still around his neck.  She could feel the strong, corded muscles of his back and shoulders.  Her soft chest was pressed firmly to the hard muscles of his.  When she breathed in, she could smell his soap and something else, beneath that, and she’d be damned if he didn’t smell _good_.

She jumped back suddenly, giving a nervous giggle before sobering. “Seriously.  Thank you so much.”

“Mommy?” Lyanna’s voice snapped her attention back to the other side of the fence where her daughter was standing at the corner, hands on her hips.  “Why I not go over there?”

“I’ll fix that,” Sandor rumbled. He walked to the fence, bent over the other side, and lifted both Lyanna and Pupcake into his arms before depositing both into his yard.  “Better?”  Lyanna nodded.

_Tall and strong_ , Sansa thought, thinking of the way his muscles had rippled and flexed when he’d lifted toddler and puppy, then trying to shake herself loose of her thoughts.

“Do you want some supper?” Sansa asked suddenly, wanting to do something for the man who had just stuck his neck out for her for the umpteenth time.  “I mean, I know you have to go to work, but I can throw something together…”

He shook his head. “No work tonight.  Food would be good.  What are you cooking?”

As it turned out, despite all her years trying to perfect domestic bliss with Harry, Sansa was not a great cook. She wasn’t a _terrible_ cook, but she had gotten so used to quick meals that she had never really practiced anything worthy of sharing with a neighbor.

She stood in her kitchen sometime later while Sandor sat in her living room floor letting Lyanna climb all over him, trying to figure out what to feed the man. Almost everything she had was frozen.  Frozen chicken tenders, frozen TV dinners, frozen waffles…

She heaved a sigh, checking her fridge again for anything she could throw together. “What do you eat?” 

“Nothing special, Little Bird,” Sandor said, tossing a giggling Lyanna onto the couch behind him. “Whatever you have that’s easiest.”

Sansa crept into the living room ready to admit defeat. Lyanna leapt off the couch cushion practically onto Sandor’s head, belly laughing.  He pulled her down from his shoulders and held her under her arms, looking up at her and fighting his own grin.  Something tugged at Sansa’s heart. _This is how it should be with Lyanna and Harry_ , she thought, and then immediately scolded herself for going there. 

Sandor had only spent snippets of time with Lyanna and it was easy to relate to a kid when you weren’t under the same roof. But even as Sansa argued this point in her head, she had to remind herself that Harry had rarely been home.

Lyanna was smiling down at him and kicked her little legs in midair. “Don’t drop, don’t drop me!” 

Sandor promptly dropped her behind him on the couch cushions again and another fit of giggles took hold of her. Sansa cleared her throat and they both looked up at her, both smiling genuinely.

“Bad news. I’m not sure I actually have anything you want to eat.  Unless of course you like frozen waffles?  Protein bars?  Pre-mixed salad?”

Sandor made a face and Sansa gave him an apologetic look, truly sorry she hadn’t thought this through before she offered.

“I could just order us all a pizza,” Sandor offered quietly, to which Lyanna squealed, “PIZZA!”

“That is,” Sandor amended, looking up at her. “If that’s okay.”

Sansa grinned at him and gave a nod. “Let’s do it.  I’m paying though!”

Sandor scowled at her. “No need for that.”

“Yes, it is. I offered you supper and I’m a lousy cook…so I’m paying and that’s that!”

By the time the three of them were sitting around Sansa’s little dining room table, which of course was not located in the dining room, but at the back of the family room, Sansa was sure that Lyanna’s jaw was going to fall off from talking so much. She had always been chatty, but she seemed even more so with Sandor, likely because he actually seemed to listen to her.

Harry had often grown tired of her endless chatter, and Sansa had always made excuses. The kid _could_ talk one’s ear off, but Sandor didn’t seem to mind. 

He was so different from when she had known him before, yet somehow the same too. She couldn’t put her finger on why she felt differently around him.  He still had a foul mouth.  He was quite grouchy at times and rarely smiled.  He also had a tendency to make her feel like she was screwing up.  But the conversation they’d had Friday night certainly didn’t seem like he thought she was a failure, and she was beginning to wonder if Sandor was just so accustomed to being gruff that it got the better of him at times.

When she had known him before, he’d had the same bad attitude and permanent scowl, but there was something else about him. It wasn’t just that she had gotten used to his scars.  Sansa was certain that while it had startled her in the beginning that the scar wasn’t the reason he had frightened her so much when she was younger.

_It had to be his anger. He still looks angry a lot, but something is different._   She thought back on those early days when she had first started dating Joffrey.  The fearsome Hound could barely stand the sight of her, it seemed.  Whenever she would anger him, he wouldn’t just snap at her, but he seemed to _tremble_ with barely suppressed rage.  There was none of that now.

She also remembered him being drunk quite a lot when he was off duty, but now his eyes were always clear, always seemingly watching her, as they were doing now.

“What?” She asked, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Where did you go?” He asked, pushing his empty plate aside.

Sansa thought about shrugging it off and hoping he’d forget it, but she found herself curious and wanting to talk to him. “I just…I was remembering back when I first met you.”

It seemed as if a shadow fell over his face then, and Sansa was immediately worried that this had been the wrong thing to say, that bringing up their past would make him angry.

“Why are you thinking about that? Remembering what an asshole I was to you?”

“Language!” Lyanna said around a mouthful of pizza.

Sansa grinned at her daughter, then looked back at Sandor, who was studying a spot on the table.

“Yes, actually,” she answered, knowing that he valued honesty.

His eyes snapped up to hers, confusion writ on his features.

“It’s just…I know that you hated me back then, and I’m not even sure you like me all that much now, but…you’re different.”

He gave his usual one nod, but said nothing.

“I know that I was an annoying kid and I’m sorry for judging you the way I did. I shouldn’t have.  I had nothing to fear.  You were the _last_ person I should have been afraid of.”

Sandor was staring at the table again. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” Sansa said in earnest, and before she could think about it, she reached over and laid her hand atop his. His eyes shifted from the table to their hands, then to her face, and Sansa went a little breathless at the intensity in his eyes.  Her palm was sweaty where it rested over the back of his hand, and she was sure he was going to pull it away.

“I got some perspective on things,” he answered, his eyes holding hers. “Learned that maybe I shouldn’t be scaring little girls just because I was angry at everyone.  And make no mistake, Little Bird, I tried to scare you.  As much as it pissed me off that you were scared of me, I did nothing to help that situation.”

“Why?” Sansa asked, getting braver by the minute as he opened up to her.

“You were a nice kid,” he mumbled. “Nice girl from a nice family, falling face first in love with a sadist.  Pissed me off that you didn’t see it.  Pissed me off he’d put you through that.  Pissed me off that you were naïve enough to want to please him.  I hated that the only thing about you that made him happy was for him to torment you.  I was pissed at the world before all that, too.  But you didn’t deserve to be treated like that just because I had a bad lot in life.”  He snorted, finally looking away from her.  “I’m just one in a long line of men who have treated you badly.  Yet here you are,” his brow furrowed then as he looked back down at their hands, “Inviting me over for supper and treating me like I’m some buggering hero.”  He yanked his hand away then and sat back in his chair.

Sansa was unsure what to say to that. She watched as Lyanna swallowed her last mouthful of pizza then wiggled out of her chair and scampering over to the window that looked out on the deck.  Pupcake was outside, evidently answering nature’s call.  Sansa looked back at Sandor, deciding to push forward.

“I’m not trying to make you into something you’re not,” she said quietly. “Maybe you aren’t a hero, but you saved me that night.  And when I think about it, there were other times you helped me.  I’ll always be grateful for that. And now, my kid really likes you.  You’re patient with her…”

“At odds with what you know about me?” He interrupted, quirking his good brow at her.

Sansa sighed. “Maybe a little.  But it’s not as though I always give you reason to be patient with me.  I know I’m snippy and defensive and downright stupid sometimes…”

“Not stupid. Naïve, sure.  Shouldn’t have called you stupid.  Not what you needed to hear while you were with that buggering little shit.”  Sandor turned at the sound of Pupcake reentering through the dog door, Lyanna squealing with glee.  “After I stopped drinking so much, after I stopped being a complete dick to everyone…I thought a lot about how I treated you.  Joffrey was telling you that you were stupid.  I was telling you that you were stupid.  You didn’t have a chance to learn because of men like me who were screaming at you what an idiot you were.”  His voice dropped off as he added, “Biggest regret, Little Bird.  I was no better than Joffrey with the way I spoke to you.”

Though the words _I’m sorry_ hadn’t left his mouth, Sansa could recognize an apology when she heard one, and her spirits lifted considerably.  So he was regretful for how he had spoken to her, even though Sansa believed he had just been trying to make her see the light where Joffrey was concerned.  She appreciated the fact that he admitted his words to her hadn’t been gentle.  She had worried for so long that he hated her, but it was clear now that his anger at the situation, at his own life, had boiled over into how he treated everyone.  It was different now though, and Sansa realized suddenly that he was her friend.  And that she could likely count on him before anyone else.


	12. You didn't buy her a mini motorbike, did you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor 'fesses up to what he bought Lyanna.
> 
> Sansa hopes it's NOT a mini motorbike.

The week passed quickly, though more pleasantly than the previous ones for Sansa.  Before, Sansa had only interacted with Sandor casually for the most part.  They’d chat at the fence, or rather Lyanna would chat with him and Sansa would watch them.  Now, though she saw him less, she found that they were speaking a lot more. 

It started Tuesday with text messages on what needed to be done with Lyanna.  Sandor offered to pick her up at school so she wouldn’t have to go to the after-school program at all.  Sansa had sent a note and called Three School to notify them of what was going on and relayed the message to Sandor that he was good to go. 

She had a rather large gap in her day now that her schedule had changed, so she’d go home to hang out with Pupcake and work on her sewing projects.  She had hung up some banners at school about the services she offered and was starting to get orders, which excited her.  She wondered why she hadn’t done this before.  She knew that Rosby had an upcoming street festival where merchants would set up booths to sell their wares.  Sansa wanted to go to see if it was something that she could try in the future once she had more stock.  Right now, Sansa only made Lyanna’s clothes and other orders were custom made, but she thought if she had enough interest, she could start stocking up and selling the little outfits at Rosby’s monthly festivals.

At a quarter til 3, she left her house to report to work and was thankful that Baelish was in class so she wouldn’t have to deal with his eyes on her.

Sandor texted her a little after she got to work.

**Sandor:  little little bird is hungry.  Is it normal to feed her after school?**

Sansa giggled at his new nickname for Lyanna and typed her response.

_Sansa:  Yes, apparently school makes her ravenous.  She can have a snack, especially since she’s going to have a late supper.  Little little bird, huh?  Not tiny bird or little bird junior?_

**Sandor:  why would she have a late supper?  Don’t make the kid wait til after 7 to eat.  I can feed her.  Little bird junior sounds stupid.  Can’t have my little buddy stuck with a dumb nickname.**

_Sansa:  Because little little bird is a genius nickname?  You really don’t have to feed her supper.  You’re doing enough._

**Sandor:  Her bedtime is 8:30.  Not making the kid wait til an hour before bedtime to eat.  I’ve got this.  Little little bird makes sense.  You’re little bird and she’s a little version of you.**

_Sansa:  She looks nothing like me.  That blonde hair is all Harry._

**Sandor:  Maybe.  But she has your chirping down perfectly.  Hasn’t shut up since I picked her up. Was mad she had to ride in my truck instead of on my bike.**

_Sansa:  She does think your motorcycle is the coolest thing ever.  That’s what she told me.  Anyway, thanks for feeding her.  See ya later._

**Sandor:  Later, little bird.**

***

 

(Sandor)

“I be three tomorrow,” Lyanna told Sandor on Thursday after he had gotten her back to his house and settled her with string cheese and a juice box.

“Very important age,” he told her.  “Can you count to three?”

Lyanna rolled her eyes in a very teenager way, and said, “Yes.  I can count to fifty!”

“You are a smart kid,” he told her.

She nodded in agreement.  “You come to my party?”

“Of course.  Wouldn’t miss it.  Can you wait a whole day for your present or do you need it tomorrow?”

Lyanna considered for a moment.  “Wait til party.”

“Alright.  I can do that if you can.”  He smirked when her face changed to uncertainty, clearly wondering if she could in fact wait a whole day after her true birthday to receive her present.

“I wait,” she reaffirmed before slurping the last of her juice out of the box.

Much like the last two days, they watched cartoons, played with Stranger, and then they had a discussion about what she’d eat for supper.  The kid seemed to only survive off chicken, pizza, and peanut butter, so Sandor realized he would have to get creative to change it up every day.  That night, he talked her into trying homemade chicken tenders rather than the frozen ones she was fond of, and he was secretly pleased when she put three of them away in a matter of minutes.

Sandor could admit to himself, if no one else, that he was enjoying having the kid around.  She was so smart for her age and he found himself constantly impressed by her.  He hadn’t been around many toddlers, but he knew that Lyanna was smarter than most.  She was polite, just like the Little Bird, but she was also fond of getting dirty and playing rough, which reminded Sandor more of Arya.  She was mouthy too, which she probably inherited from both Stark girls.

He didn’t mind getting to work a bit later either.  He didn’t have a set schedule, but previously he’d been getting there around 7 and staying until after closing time at 2.  Every once in a while, when he wanted the night off, he’d go in around lunch time instead so he could get off earlier.  The only downfall to the new arrangement was that Sandor had seen a lot less of Sansa.  Sure, he was hanging out with the coolest little kid ever, and he hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed seeing Sansa in the evenings from his backyard, but he found that he kind of missed her.

_Why the fuck do I miss her?  It’s not as though we spent time together.  Idiot dog._

When Sansa came to pick up Lyanna that night, she looked more stressed than usual.  She hefted Lyanna onto her hip and thanked him, as she always did, for watching her daughter and started out the door.

He caught her elbow just before she walked off the porch.  “Something going on?”

Sansa glanced at Lyanna, took a breath and said, “Just nervous about this weekend, I guess.”

Sandor didn’t want to say what he was sure was the culprit for that stress, or rather _who_ , in front of Lyanna.  He let her go and followed them out, swinging a long leg over his bike as he watched Sansa take Lyanna inside.

Later, at work, while he was sitting in the office working on payroll, he decided to text her.

**Sandor:  stressed about the blonde cunt?**

_Sansa:  Don’t use that word!  Yes, Harry stresses me out.  Not that he’s done anything yet.  I just don’t trust myself, I guess._

**Sandor:  you don’t trust yourself?  With what?**

_Sansa:  To continually push him away.  He’s capable of being a good man and I want him to do that for Lyanna.  But I don’t want to let my guard down and allow him to hurt both of us again._

Sandor put the phone down, unsure of what to say to that.  She spoke like she was considering giving her ex another shot.  For some reason, Sandor didn’t want her to.  He tried to tell himself it was because the fuckface had cheated on her and she deserved better than that, but Sandor got the sneaking suspicion that even if fuckface had been perfect, he’d want him to stay away from Sansa.

He didn’t know why someone would consciously continue to do something to ruin a relationship with someone like Sansa.  She was sweet and devoted and so much stronger than even he had known.  Years ago, he had thought her determination to stay with Joffrey had been weakness, but that wasn’t quite right.  She was a fixer.  She didn’t give up on people easily.  When she gave her heart, she gave it fully.  Joffrey had abused that and wore her down to the point where she believed _she_ was the one who needed fixing.  Sandor cursed himself for not seeing her as she truly was all those years ago.  And once again, he felt like he fell into that category with Joffrey and Harry, constantly messing something up with Sansa, even though he’d never been in a relationship with her.  He’d already said enough dumb shit to potentially jeopardize their friendship, or whatever it was.

Now, Sansa was using that “fixer” mentality with Harry the fuckface.  The lad had fucked up, numerous times for what Sandor surmised.  It still baffled him that any fucker lucky enough to have Sansa Stark would ever stray.  She wasn’t just a pretty face or a delicious body.  She was beautiful, she was perfection, she was one hell of a mommy, and she had a good heart.

_Sitting here thinking about her like a buggering poet_ , Sandor thought wryly to himself.  She brought that out of him, if not into the light, at least into his conscious mind.

It bothered him that the blonde cunt, _Harry_ , had so little to do with his child, too.  Sandor had never thought much about children.  His face had been fucked up when he was six years old and, though there had been necessary surgeries for skin grafts, the surgeries to lessen the horror of the scars hadn’t occurred until much later.  Because people looked at him like a monster, he had taken to acting like a monster.  There had been no high school sweetheart.

Even the women he had dated for an extended period of time had never brought up children.  No one had ever considered him a forever prospect.  Because he had never been in a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage, he had naturally never considered having children.  He had no family that he was close to.  None of his friends had children.  But for some reason, when that tiny, pigtailed blonde lass had popped into his life, he was immediately smitten.

He wasn’t sure if it was because she belonged to Sansa or in spite of it.  Didn’t matter really.  He could admit easily enough that he was crazy about Lyanna.  Wished he had a kid just like her.  He had thought all toddlers were whiny, demanding, barely-verbal little beasts.  But Lyanna was a little person with an infectious smile and a friendly personality.  She could be bossy, sure, but Sandor admired that quality in her.

He already knew what her birthday present was and he had already bought it.  It had only occurred to him later that he should have cleared it with Sansa, but he’d just return it if the Little Bird didn’t approve.  He planned to get up early enough to talk to her tomorrow morning because he didn’t want to do it through text.

So Friday, a little after 7 a.m. a very tired Sandor went and knocked on Sansa’s door.  She answered, smiling at him in confusion.

“I need to talk to you about the gift I got for the wee lass,” he said, looking around behind Sansa.  “Where is she?”

“Oh, she’s in the dining room eating breakfast.  Want to come in?”

He shook his head, motioning for her to come onto the porch.  “I, uh…might be I should’ve cleared the gift with you first…”

Sansa’s brow furrowed.  “You didn’t buy her a mini motorbike, did you?”

That startled a deep laugh out of him before he could stop it and she grinned at him.  “No, Little Bird.  No motorbike,” he thought for a moment that Lyanna would probably like it just as much as what he’d got her.   “Not yet, anyway.  I know she likes the water, so…I bought her a pool.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, relief flooding her face, likely at the knowledge that Sandor wasn’t trying to turn her daughter into a daredevil.  “Sandor, that’s fine.  I should’ve already bought her a little kiddie pool to be honest…”

He shook his head.  “It’s not exactly a kiddie pool.  It’s above ground.  Twenty-two-foot radius, four feet deep.  I have a company on stand-by to put it up and fill it today…if you’re okay with it.  That way it’ll be ready for her party tomorrow.”

He watched as Sansa’s jaw dropped open and those pretty blue eyes went wide.  “Sandor…you…you shouldn’t have done that.”

Shame wasn’t something he felt very often, but it hit him then.  He knew he should have asked her before buying it.  “It’s…I can take it back.  Shouldn’t have done it without asking…”

He was abruptly cut off when she hurled herself at him, her arms slinging around his middle.  “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, for us.”  She squeezed him with her thin little arms and he reluctantly returned the embrace, not wanting to creep her out.

_Second time in a matter of days she’s hugged you, Hound,_ he thought to himself in wonder.  _Is this real life?_

He cleared his throat.  “Lass likes water.  Told me she could swim.  Didn’t know what else she’d want.”

Sansa pulled back and he could see unshed tears swimming in her eyes.  “Oh, really?  You couldn’t have gotten her a _My Little Pony_ toy or a movie?  So your answer to that was a pool?”

He had the decency to attempt to look guilty, but figured he was failing miserably.  Now that he knew Sansa was okay with it, he was anxious to see Lyanna’s reaction.

“Gotta keep her distracted when I pick her up today.  Don’t want her nosing around in the backyard and seeing her gift before it’s ready.”

“San-more!”  Lyanna had just turned the corner coming from the dining room and ran to greet him.

He bent down and held out his hand to her for a fist bump, which she met, bumping her tiny knuckles against his huge ones. 

“Why you here?”  Lyanna asked curiously.

“Just talking about your birthday gift,” he told her honestly.

Excitement sparked in her eyes and she looked around wildly for a moment.  “Can I have it?  What is it?”  She turned and looked around the living room as if it would materialize before her eyes and held her little hands palms up, as if to say _where is it_.

“You won’t get it til your party,” he told her.

She looked back at him in shock and her little face fell.

“Your party is only a day away,” Sansa reminded her.  “Think you can wait a day?”

Lyanna seemed to consider this for a moment, then firmly shook her head.  “No.  Can’t wait.”

“You told me yesterday you wanted to wait til your party,” Sandor reminded her.

“Changed my mind,” she told him, crossing her little arms over her chest, much like Sandor was apt to do.

Sansa snickered at the very serious look on her daughter’s face, and Sandor had to fight his own smirk, and wondered why he was even bothering to hide them anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fair warning about 2 things...
> 
> 1) The next couple of chapters are slow plot-wise, but they are needed to lay some groundwork for what's coming.
> 
> 2) I have a strict rule that I stay 5 chapters ahead of what I post and I have not finished tweaking chapter 18 yet, so....maybe a little longer wait for chapter 13. Sorry!
> 
> Also, I hope I'm not throwing people off by the rating... I didn't want to post that it was Mature until it earned that rating, so I hope once it changes that it doesn't deter anyone...but now I'm nervous about it. That wasn't necessary for me to say, but I guess I'm just sharing my anxiety. Right now it looks like that rating is going to happen around chapter 19...


	13. My Best Little Bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna and Sandor spend some quality time together on her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Sandor's POV this chapter.
> 
> Get ready for some serious fluff and adorableness (if that's even a word...)

(Sandor)

Despite the fact that Lyanna had changed her mind about when she wanted her gift, it was too late to change plans.  Lyanna pouted as Sansa strapped her into her seat, but she still gave him another fist bump before they left. 

Sandor wasn’t accustomed to getting up so early, but he couldn’t go back to sleep.  He contacted the pool company and made arrangements for the assembly and for it to be filled.  He worked out around his usual time and then showered and went to visit the bar.

He didn’t usually go in around lunchtime, but he had thought of maybe changing up his schedule a bit, working some during lunch hours and some during the evening so that he could leave earlier than closing time.  There was really no need for him to stay at his bar most nights until 2:00 a.m.  He had to learn to have more trust in his managers, but after years of distrusting everyone, it was difficult to relinquish control.

His lunchtime bartender was the man responsible for a lot Sandor’s growth and he greeted him happily as usual and Sandor greeted him back, less grumpy than he would greet someone else.  Ray Elder was nearing seventy, but he had the energy of a much younger man.  He was also in much better shape than many people younger than him.  He had owned a bar in King’s Landing and had hired Sandor after he’d abruptly walked away from Joffrey. 

But Sandor had been hired at a time when Ray was contemplating retirement.  He told Sandor he was done with managing money and stressing over business.  He had offered to sell the bar to Sandor, but Sandor wanted away from King’s Landing.  There were too many bad memories there and he craved a less hectic, small town setting.  So Ray had sold his bar in King’s Landing, opting to retire and had offered to help Sandor open his bar and grill in Rosby.  With Ray’s business guidance, Sandor had rid himself of what little debt he had incurred.  The considerable chuck of money he’d saved while working for the Lannisters had allowed him to own his house, truck, and motorcycle outright, so with Ray helping Sandor with the ins and outs of running a bar, Sandor now had a lucrative business.  With Ray’s life guidance, Sandor had become a little less hateful.

After a couple of years of retirement, Ray had gotten bored, so Sandor had offered him a position at his bar, knowing the old man missed being around people.  Ray had accepted and he had become popular with the lunch regulars, who considered him just as good as a therapist when listening to their problems and offering advice.

Sandor took a seat at the mostly empty bar.  Ray came over, giving him a quizzical look.  “Little early for you, isn’t it?”

“Aye.  Got up earlier than normal.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“No more than usual.  Had to make some arrangements for Lyanna’s gift.”  Because Ray was such a nosy old fart, Sandor had told him about Sansa reappearing in his life and his unexpected friendship with her sassy little toddler.  Ray had taken to giving him secret smirks that Sandor didn’t want to examine too closely.

“What did you decide on for your little buddy?”

Sandor hesitated, knowing that Ray would try to make more of his grand gift than what it really was.  “A pool,” he said nonchalantly, glancing anywhere but at the old man’s face, acting as though he were examining how many patrons were currently occupying the separate seating area.

When he finally looked back, Ray was wearing one of those smirks, a twinkle in his eye.  “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t some blow up pool that cost ten bucks?”

Sandor shrugged, taking a swig of the beer Ray had placed in front of him.  “What would she do with a little pool?  She can swim, so she needs something she can swim in.”

Ray watched him for a moment.  “And Sansa?  What did she think of it?”

“Seemed happy about it.”

“Mm-hmm.  And you’re doing this for the girl, yes?  Not just for Sansa…”

Sandor’s eyes snapped to Ray then, shooting him a withering look.  “I didn’t do it for any attention from Sansa.  I’m not going to use the kid to…make her like me or whatever.”

Ray nodded, as if he’d known that all along and was just poking the bear.  “I know.  Just messing with you.  You seem pretty attached to the kid.”

“Not attached,” he muttered.  “It’s her birthday party and I was invited.  Got her something she’d like.  That’s it.”

“You got her an _expensive_ gift,” Ray said.

“What’s that matter?  My house is paid for.  My truck is paid for.  The bike is paid for.  I have the money.  I have no one to provide for,” he fought not to let bitterness seep into his words.  “It’s nothing to get a kid a gift she’ll enjoy.”

Ray went to serve a new customer and Sandor stood, heading for the office.  He was suddenly aggravated, not in the mood to be teased about how close he may or may not be to Sansa’s child.  He tried not to think too much on it.  Examining his affection for the two of them usually led to a lot of frustration.  Sansa both irritated and intrigued him.  He was drawn to her sweetness, her beauty, her unassuming strength, and her kindness, but also inexplicably annoyed by it.  It wasn’t a puzzle he’d been able to piece together yet.

Sandor constantly argued with himself, telling himself the reason he couldn’t stay away from her was because she was stunning.  Then, he would admit that he really wasn’t that shallow, and it must have been the fact that she could look at him without flinching or could hold his eyes like he was any other person, rather than a big scary dude with a mangled face.

He remembered when he’d told her about the burns.  He had never told anyone up to that point, though there were a few people who knew.  Sixteen years old, lovely, and innocent, Sansa could barely stand to look at him. 

She was always polite though, and she went out of her way to offer him pleasantries, no matter how false they ran.  He couldn’t understand why she’d even bother.  Her pretty smiles were fake, her words were forced, and she could hardly hide her discomfort.  It was obvious for anyone who watched the two of them interact that he scared her. 

He had purposely scared her on that night.  He couldn’t explain the compulsion that he’d had to do it.  Immediately afterward, he’d felt shame.  He was capable of being ashamed, even then, though he would never have apologized to her.  He thought that maybe his need to do things for her now maybe stemmed from treating her like shit back then. 

Sandor pushed away those thoughts and decided to focus on some paperwork.  He needed to keep his mind off the fact that tomorrow he would have to tolerate being in a social setting.  He knew some of Sansa’s family would be there and he thought maybe the blonde cunt would be there too.  Before he could start having doubts about whether or not he should actually attend the party, he got busy with his work.

The day passed quickly and he picked Lyanna up at 3:00.  Because it was her birthday, Sandor took her to a store and let her pick out some cheap gifts.  After spending _way_ more time in the store than he intended with Lyanna ordering him around from her spot at the front of the shopping cart, they ended up leaving with several bags full of toys.  She got bubbles, more sidewalk chalk, a jump rope (which he seriously doubted that she could use), water guns, and candy.  He managed to talk her into waiting to eat the candy until after she’d had a proper meal.  That proper meal happened to be chicken nuggets her favorite fast-food restaurant.  Along with her nuggets, he let her order fries and a chocolate milk shake.  When she drunk it too quickly, she jumped up in the booth, holding her little hands to her head.  Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth popped open.

Sandor watched her in amusement while the brain freeze subsided.  “That’s why you don’t drink it too fast.”

“But it’s yummy,” Lyanna pouted, finally sitting back down, rubbing a chubby little hand to her temple.

“It can still be yummy if you sip slower.”

Lyanna nodded that she understood, then looked through the window at the playground.  Her big blue eyes shifted back to Sandor and she smiled sweetly. 

He knew it was coming before she got it out of her mouth and sighed heavily.

“San-more, can I play?”  She stood up again and pointed through the window that separated the dining room from the play area.

She knew she had him right where she wanted him, the look on her face made that obvious.  Somehow this three year old child had figured out that he would give her whatever she asked for.  He cleaned up their table and lifted her out of the booth and to the floor.  She held her little hand out and Sandor gave her one large finger, knowing his hand would swallow hers.  Then he trailed after her as she pulled him to the play area, bent awkwardly due to their height difference.

She took off her shoes, obviously knowing the drill, and put them away in a cubby, then turned back to look at Sandor.  “You play too?”

Sandor was confident in the fact that he rarely allowed shock or surprise to show on his face, but he was certain that at that moment his eyes may have bulged from his head.

He cleared his throat.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her little face fell.  “You not play with me?”

_Damn it, kid, just look at me_

“Lyanna,” he said, bending down in front of her.  “I can’t fit through those tunnels.”

She looked up at the play equipment and then back at him, as if assessing the situation.  “You too big?”

“WAY too big.”

She thought on this for a moment, looking around at the other kids playing, then understanding seemed to cross her features and she smiled at him.  “We can go to the park.  No small tunnels!”

Before Sandor could answer her, she took off back to the cubby and retrieved her shoes, promptly putting them on the wrong feet, and then tottered back to Sandor, glaring down at her shoes as if she hadn’t been the one to mess them up.  Sandor finally convinced her to sit down so that he could fix them, all while she chattered on about the park.

Sandor had no idea where to take her.  And he sure as hell knew that the toddler couldn’t give him directions.  Finally, he decided that he’d just take her to the playground couple of blocks from his house meant for the kids that stayed at the Sept daycare.  Normally, kids were there during the day, staying at the daycare that the Sept offered and he often saw kids playing on the equipment.  The gate was usually locked, but he could just lift her over and then hop the fence.

Ten minutes later, he was lifting Lyanna over the locked gate as she squealed in delight.  He hopped the fence with ease and followed after her.  _Kid is going to get me arrested for breaking into a buggering playground_.

He followed her onto the equipment, still barely squeezing through some of the tighter areas, but thankful that the kid was happy and he wasn’t stuck trying to navigate his six and a half foot frame through a tiny, enclosed tunnel.  Later, he seated her in a baby swing and strapped her in, pushing her until she drifted off to sleep.  He didn’t want to disturb her, but was also unsure how to get back over the fence if he had to carry her.

While he was contemplating how to solve that problem, someone found them.

“What are you doing?” His eyes shot up to Sansa, standing at the fence, one eyebrow lifted in interest as she watched him push a sleeping Lyanna.

“She wanted to swing,” he said dumbly.

She smirked at him.  “Clearly.  And uh, just how did you get in?”

“Hopped the fence,” he shrugged.  “You’re off early.”

“Yes, Baelish took pity and let me go early since I have a party to plan.  But I saw your truck and have to investigate.”

He was still pushing Lyanna and Sansa was still watching him, clearly amused.  “She wanted me to…play with her.  Couldn’t do it at the fast-food place.”

“I would have LOVED to see you try,” Sansa snickered.

He scowled at her, though they both knew it was more a tease than anything.  “Had to take her somewhere.  I’m not exactly familiar with parks.”

He slowed her swing to a stop and carefully pulled her out, lifting her over the fence into Sansa’s waiting arms.  He hopped the fence with the same ease as earlier and they headed to their cars.

“Can’t believe she talked you into breaking and entering,” Sansa said.

“I’m not sure that qualifies.  You still need me to watch her while you…do whatever?”

Sansa shrugged.  “Doesn’t matter.  If she’s going to sleep, then she won’t be any problem.  It’s a bit late for a nap though.”

“Don’t forget to keep her out of the backyard,” he warned.  “She can’t see the pool til tomorrow.”

Sansa giggled.  “Yes, sir!”

“Not a sir,” he mumbled.

“So…I have some frozen grilled chicken…I could make some quesadillas, if you’re hungry,” she trailed off, not meeting his eyes as she busied herself with strapping Lyanna into her seat.

Sandor wasn’t particularly hungry since it had only been a couple of hours since he’d eaten, but to his own surprise, he said, “I could eat some quesadillas.”

Unsurprisingly, Lyanna woke up the minute Sansa pulled up at the house, and the two of them struggled to keep Lyanna from peering into the backyard, where Pupcake was barking.  Sandor took Sansa’s keys and unlocked the door as she shifted Lyanna and the three of them entered the small living room.  Pupcake was already there, yipping excitedly. 

“I’m going to check on Stranger,” he told Sansa, heading for the door.

She peaked around the corner from the kitchen.  “You could just…bring him over here.  If you want.  I like dogs.  He’s good with Lyanna and Pupcake…”

Sandor thought on it for a moment, deciding that Stranger did need some attention since he’d been gone all day, and went to retrieve his dog.  When Sandor got back with Stranger, Lyanna squealed in delight and ran over to give him a hug.  The massive dog gave her a lick on her little face and promptly made himself comfortable on the couch.  Sandor tried to shoo him off, but Sansa insisted it wasn’t a big deal.

When they sat down for supper at the same table where they’d shared pizza previously, Lyanna took the initiative to dominate the conversation, as usual.

  
“I got bubbles and chalk and some squirts…”  She chattered.

“Squirts?”  Sansa asked in confusion.

“Her name for water guns,” Sandor explained.

Lyanna nodded.  “My Arry calls me Squirt.  This other squirt,” she explained.

“Are you excited for your party tomorrow?”  Sansa asked her.

Lyanna grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  “My Arry coming?”

“Yes,” Sansa answered.  “So is Pappy and Grams.  Uncle Bran had to go back to school, but Uncle Rickon will be here, too.  Robb and Jon will be here.  Aunt Margie will show up, I’m sure.  And your daddy will be here too.”

“And my bro?”  Lyanna asked.

Sandor watched Sansa’s brow wrinkle in confusion.  “Bro?”

Lyanna rolled her eyes and Sandor marveled at the fact that she had mastered such a teenager move at the age of three.  “Yes, mommy.  _My bro_.”

Sansa looked at Sandor as if he could explain it, but he just shook his head, having no clue what the little lass was talking about.

Sansa propped her chin on her interlaced fingers and watched Lyanna thoughtfully.  “Who exactly is your bro?”

Lyanna gave her mom a look like she was running out of patience, then lifted her tiny hand and gestured to Sandor.  “San-more is my bro, mommy!”

Sansa snickered.  “Baby, Sandor is _not_ your brother…”

Lyanna shook her head furiously and grimaced.  “Not _brother_ ,” she said in a tone that indicated a long suffering of idiots.  “ _Bro_.  Like Mr. Theon is Robb’s _bro_.”

Sandor just watched the tiny blonde child with something like wonder, her declaration softening him in a way he just couldn’t fight.  Years ago, Sansa, while she had been scared of him, had shown him kindness that not many others had cared to afford him.  Now, her daughter was doing one better.  Sandor had just been declared to be what amounted to a best friend to this toddler.  He knew he didn’t deserve it.  He had only been in her life for such a short time.  He was baffled as to why this delicate little thing had gotten so attached to him.

_Attached.  Same word Ray used_ , Sandor remembered.  _That meddling old bastard recognized it before I did._

He chanced a glance at Sansa, who had some undefinable look on her face.  She almost looked like she was going to cry and it was making Sandor uncomfortable.  Ever to the rescue, Lyanna broke the silence that had only lasted a few moments, but had seemed to stretch for minutes.

“San-more, you my bro, right?”

He nodded, unable to speak for unknown reasons.

“I your bro, too?”  Lyanna asked, suddenly seeming a bit unsure of herself.

He found his voice, nodding as he said, “Aye, my best bro.”

A huge grin split her face at that moment and she offered her fist, and he gave it a bump.

_My best little bro._


	14. What would he be like as a dad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, there is a party and people are late...some for good reasons, some...not so much.
> 
> (This is party chapter part 1...)

After their meal, Sandor took Stranger home and left for work.  Sansa cleaned up, put Lyanna to bed, and baked Lyanna’s cake.  She put it in the freezer, planning to decorate it the following morning.  Baking was about the only creative thing Sansa could do in the kitchen.  She finished Lyanna’s birthday outfit that she had made, and around 10:00 p.m. she lay down.

But she took a long time getting to sleep, constantly replaying the scene from supper when her toddler had announced that Sandor was her bro.

Sansa knew what that meant.

Because to Lyanna, bro meant best friend.  Robb had grown up with Theon, a friend so close that he had practically been raised by the Starks.  Whenever the two saw each other, it was “bro fest” as Arya called it.  Her oldest brother and his best friend rarely called one another by their names and it wasn’t a surprise that Lyanna had picked up on their shared moniker for one another.

Perhaps more startling, Sandor had went right along with it.  As Sansa lay awake pondering what had happened, she felt peculiar warmth in her chest.  She didn’t know why, but Sandor’s friendship with Lyanna made her happy.  The two of them seemed to have genuine affection for one another.  It was baffling, really, that a man like Sandor Clegane, _the Hound_ , had turned to putty in the hands of a little girl.

She couldn’t stop her thoughts once they turned down that path.  _What would he be like as a dad?  I bet his kids would adore him.  I bet he would be one protective dad.  Boys would not stand a chance with his teenage daughters.  Why hasn’t he ever had kids?  Does he want kids?_

Sansa had never imagined Sandor with kids.  When she had first met him, he’d been disinterested in other people at his best and a terrifying rage monster at his worst, though the worst of that rage had never been directed at her.  Mostly he was angry and scowling and sneering cruelly at her.  There had never been a picture in her mind that contained the fearsome Hound with children.

And yet.

He had always been protective.  As terrified as she had been of him, he had protected her when he could, subtly taking Sansa’s side in many arguments that arose with Joffrey.  He had called Meryn Trant a _miserable cunt_ for laying a hand on Sansa.

_“What kind of man lays a hand on a little girl?”_ She remembered him snapping the phrase at Trant on more than one occasion.  Of course, when she’d tried to thank him for standing up for her, he’d sneered at her and told her to get lost.

_But he stood up for me, whether he wanted to admit it or not,_ Sansa thought.  Maybe he had always been good with kids in his own way.  Sansa hadn’t thought of herself as a child then, but Sandor was thirteen years her senior.  He was nearing thirty when they’d first met and to him, she was sure she had appeared as nothing more than a helpless kid.

His story of his scars came back to her, as it often did.  Sandor had been a helpless child at one time as well.  Maybe that’s why he’d had a soft spot for her.  The thought made her snort audibly.  _If one could actually call it a soft spot._

Sansa recalled the feelings his story had stirred in her – horror, sympathy, anger.  She had seen his brother a few times and had wisely steered clear of him.  He still worked for the Lannisters in security, much higher up than Sandor had landed.  Tales of what he’d done to past girlfriends and ex-wives haunted her and because of what Sandor had told her, she believed the stories, no matter how unlikely they seemed.

She pushed those thoughts away, embracing the more recent memories of Sandor.  From the installation of the dog door to babysitting her kid to buying said kid a pool to professing their friendship with the most adorable fist bump she had ever seen, Sandor had all but driven out any bad impressions he had left on her when she was younger.  Maybe her impression of him hadn’t even been fair.  Just because he was big and angry didn’t mean he was dangerous, just as Joffrey’s seemingly harmless appearance, good looks, and impeccable breeding hadn’t meant that he _wasn’t_ dangerous.

When Sansa finally drifted off to sleep, her mind was conjuring images of her neighbor, and she welcomed slumber with comfort, for once, despite the empty bed, not feeling so alone.

***

The next day started with Sansa trying to keep Lyanna away from the back great room so she wouldn’t see the pool.  When Pupcake went out, Lyanna naturally wanted to go with her, but Sansa sent a pouting three year old back to her room.  She allowed her to eat her chocolate chip waffles in bed while watching a movie and found herself looking toward Sandor’s house, almost missing his presence.

She was sure he was still sleeping off his late night and figured he wouldn’t show up until time for the party.  While Lyanna was preoccupied with a movie Sansa had popped into her Blu-Ray player, Sansa snuck out the back door to examine the pool.

It had been filled the previous day and after dipping a hand in, Sansa could tell that the hot sun was already heating the water.  While it was much warmer in the Crownlands and the summer temperatures extended well into October, Sansa knew Lyanna would only get to enjoy it for another month before the weather grew too cold for her to swim.  But it was a sturdy pool, something Sandor had likely spent _way_ too much money on.  It wasn’t a flimsy thing that would only last a couple of seasons; it had a good quality liner and siding and a sturdy metal frame.  She would be able to use it for years.

Arya arrived about an hour before the party and Sansa took her to the deck to show off the pool.

“Whoa, how in the world did you manage that?”  Arya asked, eyeing the pool.  Arya was aware of her financial situation.  And the fact that she wouldn’t have been able to pay for someone to assemble it for her.  And the fact that she wouldn’t have been able to assemble it herself.  She cocked a questioning eyebrow at Sansa.  “Harry?”

Sansa shook her head, chewing on her lip nervously.  “Sandor,” she answered quietly.

Her sister’s brows shot up.  “The fuck?!  He want in your pants that bad?”

Sansa gave Arya a good, hard elbow in the ribs.  “No!” she hissed, glaring at her.  “He didn’t do it for me.  He did it for her.  _Just for her_.  Last night, she called him her bro.”

Arya looked impressed at that.  “Wow, she doesn’t even call _me_ her bro, and I know she likes me better than you.”

Sansa gave her a good, hard pinch on the arm.

“ _Seven hells,_ but you’re abusive today!”  Arya complained.

“He’s coming to the party,” Sansa informed her.

Arya’s eyes narrowed.  “You invited the Hound to a party that our mother will be attending?  Are you on drugs?”

Arya jumped back before Sansa could inflict any more injuries on her.

“It’s Lyanna’s party and she wants him here,” Sansa argued.

“It’s not me that’s the problem,” Arya muttered, heading off to visit with her niece.

People began trickling in about a quarter til one.  Robb and his newest girlfriend, Jeyne, showed up first and the petite girl hit it off with Lyanna.  Gendry showed up right afterward, happy to see Pupcake had grown so much since Lyanna had adopted her.  Jon came next, Rickon having ridden with him because he’d gotten on Ned’s bad side that morning and had demanded that Jon pick him up.  Ned and Catelyn arrived promptly at party time with Margaery trailing in a few minutes late. 

Sansa had cleaned up her sewing room and had set up a foldable table and chairs to accommodate all of her guests.  All that was missing by the time everyone had settled with a plate was Sandor.  Oh, and Harry.  Harry was also missing.

She heard the distinct rumble of a motorcycle and ran to the side door, wondering why he was leaving, but realized that he was actually coming back.  She hadn’t even noticed that he’d left, probably being too busy with the party.  He saw her at the door and immediately made his way over, holding up a couple of bags.

“Pool toys,” he rasped, pulling his aviators off and hooking them onto his shirt.

Sansa shook her head and gave him a smile.  “You’re late.”

The unburned side of his mouth pulled up at the corner in a half smile.  “Had to make sure my bro had some floats.”

Sansa led him into the dining room and the entire room went almost silent.  Sansa indicated he should sit and he did, seemingly ignoring the baffled looks he was getting from everyone except Lyanna.

“San-more, you late!”  Lyanna admonished him.

“So I am,” he rumbled.  “Does that mean no cake for me?”

“I let you have cake,” she said, giving him a smile.  “After pizza.”

Margaery’s eyes drank in the muscled, six and a half foot form of Sandor and she showed him a wicked grin.  _Oh, no you don’t_ , Sansa thought, outraged her friend was already eyeing him with interest.

Catelyn cleared her throat and forced a smile.  “Forgive me, I don’t think we’ve met.”  She made a show of standing and walking around the table to offer her hand to Sandor.  “My name is Catelyn Stark.”

Sandor took her outstretched hand.  “Sandor Clegane.”

Margaery jumped up as well, sticking her hand out after Catelyn had backed away.  “I’m Margaery Tyrell.  Sansa is one of my dearest friends,” she showed him her lovely smile and he shook her hand briefly.

“Sorry,” Sansa said quickly, wishing Margaery and Catelyn would _sit the hell down_ , “I, uh, forgot some of you haven’t met Sandor.  Dad…”

“We’ve met,” Ned said curtly, giving him a nod.  “I met him when he worked for Robert.  I’d guess you don’t miss that job much, huh?”

Sandor shook his head.  “Not at all.  I’m my own boss now.”

“Oh, is that so?”  Catelyn asked, seating herself next to Ned once again.  “And what do you do for a living?”

Sansa placed a plate and cup in front of Sandor, but he didn’t even look down at the food, nor did he flinch from Catelyn’s question.  “I own a bar.”

“Oooh, an entrepreneur, I like it,” Margaery cooed.  Sansa rolled her eyes.  Her family was business owners too, with farms, landscaping businesses, and rental houses all to their name, so she wasn’t sure why her friend was acting so impressed. 

Sansa didn’t miss the way her mother’s lips pursed and the disapproving look she shot Sandor upon hearing of his profession.  Arya came to her rescue then.

“Yep, same bar where Gendry bartends,” Arya said pleasantly.

Catelyn looked as if she had swallowed something unpleasant and Sansa knew she was wondering how her well-bred daughters had come to keep such company. 

Jon sat at the end of the table, seeming less-broody than normal, and Sansa figured it was because for once, he wasn’t the disappointment.  Between Rickon being in trouble for setting a tree on fire and Sansa and Arya fraternizing with bar owners and bartenders and the like, Jon was looking fairly saintly.  If only Robb hadn’t been so gods-damned perfect, Jon may have even been the favorite today.

Gendry had ducked his head down and was staring at the table in feigned interest, probably wishing he could disappear because he knew, just as Sansa knew, that Arya wouldn’t stop with that.  Once Arya had the motivation to annoy Catelyn, there was little to do to stop her.

“I hear Sandor is pretty successful,” Arya said conversationally.  “His bar is booming business.  Most popular one in town.  He probably makes good money.  And he hasn’t been in law school living off loans for several years.”

Sansa groaned, knowing Arya was referencing Harry, and actually glad that he hadn’t shown up.

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to her youngest daughter.  “Sometimes one has to spend money on a proper education to make money and secure a future.”

“Sometimes you’re thirty-five and virtually debt free,” Arya commented.  Sansa wondered how she knew that.

“Thirty-six,” Sandor cut in, taking a bite of his pizza.

_When did these two team up?!_   Sansa wondered, her eyes bouncing between her sister and her neighbor. 

“Thirty-six?  You look older,” Catelyn commented with a sniff.  Sansa’s mouth dropped open.  It wasn’t like her mother to be outright rude.  _He really doesn’t look old,_ Sansa thought.  _Mom is just being a …._

“Nah, it’s just the scars,” Sandor said casually, giving Sansa a wink.

“I think they’re sexy,” Margaery chimed in.

Sansa snickered even as she watched color flood her mother’s face.  Arya was now looking at Sandor like he might be her hero for keeping his cool with Catelyn.

“This pizza is deeee-licious,” Lyanna commented, unaware of the tension in the room.

“It is,” Sandor agreed.  Then he reached over, offering his fist, and let her bump it, and Sansa had to fight down another giggle at the barely concealed outrage on her mother’s face.

“Oh, Mom, do you know the Hound…I mean, _Sandor_ ,” here Arya smirked, “Is Lyanna’s new babysitter?”

_I am literally going to murder her_ , Sansa thought as she glared at Arya, then nervously glanced at her mother. 

Catelyn’s jaw had tightened and she met Sansa’s eyes.  Before anyone could say anything, the doorbell rang and Pupcake took off from her spot under the table, making her way to the front door.  Sansa turned on her heel and went to answer the door, wondering who in the world would be ringing the bell.

She opened it to Harry, standing on the small front porch, holding a birthday bag.

“You’re late,” she snapped, the same words she’d used for Sandor, but less friendly.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but she spun back around without a word, Harry trailing after her into the dining room.

Catelyn stood again, a more natural smile coming to her mouth.  “Harry, how are you?” 

Harry set the bag down and went to embrace Catelyn.  “I’m good, Mrs. Stark.  How are you?”

“Fine, dear.  Have a seat.  Look, Lya, your dad is here!” 

Lyanna looked up from her second slice of pizza, smiled, and waved at her dad. 

Sansa’s eyes swung to Sandor, who had stiffened, sitting up straighter upon Harry’s entrance.  Harry seemed uncomfortable too, taking the only available seat, which was right next to Sandor.

Things were less tense as they moved from the pizza to the cake, singing “Happy Birthday” to Lyanna, who excitedly blew out her candles.  She ate her cake quickly, then declared she was ready to open her gifts.

Ned and Catelyn had gotten her a small silver locket with an “L” engraved on the front hanging from a dainty chain.  Ned then pressed a check into Sansa’s hand, instructing her that it was to go in Lyanna’s savings account.  Robb had gotten her several puzzles, one in particular that featured _My Little Pony_ that Lyanna was excited about.  Arya had gotten her a variety of movies on Blu-Ray since Sansa didn’t have cable.  Rickon had gotten her new crayons and coloring books.  Jon’s gift was an art easel with dry erase on one side and a chalkboard on the other.  Margaery bought her an expensive outfit from a popular boutique in King’s Landing, and while it was beautiful, Sansa secretly thought she could have made it herself.

Sansa gave her daughter a pink and purple cozy coupe car that she rolled out of her room to Lyanna’s surprise.  Lyanna opened Harry’s present to reveal a small pink teddy bear.  And though Lyanna had kissed its nose and hugged it, Sansa was almost certain that the bear had come from Lyanna’s old bedroom at Harry’s house, and felt a prick of anger.

Finally, Sandor handed Lyanna the bags he’d brought in.  She didn’t seem to care that they weren’t in birthday bags.  Her eyes grew wider and wider as she dragged out various pool accessories:  an air mattress, water wings (though she didn’t truly need them), a small pair of goggles that would fit her tiny head perfectly, a pair of flippers, and a beach ball. 

Lyanna jumped up in her chair and blew a kiss at Sandor, who gave her a genuine smile.  Those smiles were becoming more common place the longer the two of them spent together.

“Pool toys,” Catelyn said under her breath.  “What is she going to do with pool toys?  She’ll only be able to use them at our house…”

“Think again, Mom,” Arya cut in.

Lyanna obviously hadn’t considered this as she was busy trying to put the goggles on her head.  She only slowed down when Sandor got her attention.

“Little lass,” he said quietly, though everyone stopped their chatter to see what he would say.  “Goggles are for water, aye?”

She blinked at him in confusion, and then it seemed to dawn on her that she would need a pool to properly use the goggles.  She looked at Ned.  “Go to Pappy’s house and play with my gobbles?”

“Gobbles!”  Arya snickered.  “I’m never calling them goggles again!”

“No need for that, lass,” Sandor said before Ned could answer.  He stood up from his seat, towering over everyone, and walked around the table to Lyanna.  He lifted her off the chair and indicated she should follow him.

Lyanna took about four steps to Sandor’s one stride as the two of them made their way to the back door.  Sandor threw it open and stepped out of the deck, looking back to Lyanna to gauge her reaction.

Sansa took out her phone and started recording as Lyanna squealed in delight, jumping up and down and pulling at her pigtails excitedly.  She danced around the deck, nearly lost the goggles, which hadn’t been tightened yet, and caused Pupcake to yelp nervously, clearly making her puppy think that the toddler had lost her mind.

“I want to swim!”  Lyanna told Sandor.

He bent down, still towering over Lyanna.  “After your party, okay?  No one brought swim suits.  Don’t want to leave your guests behind, do you?”

Sansa thought that Lyanna definitely _did_ want to leave her guests behind, but after studying Sandor’s face for a few moments, she nodded her head in agreement, and turned back around, announcing to her family, “I got a pool!”

Sansa laughed and ushered everyone back inside.  Her smile faltered when she saw Harry’s face.  It wasn’t disappointment or hurt or confusion. 

Harry was pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a good chance this will be the last update for awhile. I'm going to be scarce next week because my daughter has a week long softball tournament at the beach (woo-hoo!) and there's no way I'm taking my laptop. I'll probably be lurking on my phone, but there won't be any updates. If I can get chapter 20 polished up, there's a small chance that I can get chapter 15 out this weekend (because remember, the 5 chapter gap rule...yeah).


	15. You can't make him worthy of her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation with Harry and a dip in the pool.

As everyone turned to go back inside, Harry hung back, eyeing Sansa angrily.  Arya glared at him, then threw Sansa a questioning look. 

“Just take Lyanna in and keep everyone busy,” she said quietly.  Arya nodded and took Lyanna’s hand, pulling her inside.

Sandor passed by her without meeting her eyes, likely sensing that something was amiss.

“Wait,” Harry said, and Sandor stopped at the door, but didn’t turn back to look at him.  “You stay.”

Sandor closed the backdoor and turned back to Harry, his face showing nothing of what he was thinking or feeling.  He leaned his huge frame against the back of the house and stuffed his hands in his pockets, seemingly at ease with what Sansa felt was a very tense situation.

Sansa clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling.  She didn’t know why she was scared.  Harry had never hurt her physically and Sandor was standing not two feet away; but she could practically _feel_ the ire rolling off Harry as his blue eyes shifted between she and Sandor.

“You’re responsible for the pool?”  Harry asked in a clipped tone.

“Aye,” Sandor rasped, but offered no other explanation.

“Is there something I’m missing here?”  Harry hissed.  “Why is he buying our child expensive toys?  Are you…fuck, I don’t know…spreading your legs to get lavish gifts?”

Sansa’s head snapped up and as she opened her mouth to unleash her own anger, Sandor had crossed the deck in a matter of a couple of steps and now towered over Harry, though he didn’t touch him.

“Don’t,” he snarled, placing himself entirely in Harry’s bubble.  “Don’t speak to her that way.  This is your kid’s party and you’re insulting her mother. Don’t do it again.”

Harry’s face turned an impressive shade of red and he poked a finger into Sandor’s muscled chest.  “You will _not_ tell me what I can and cannot do, Clegane.”

Sansa rushed to Sandor’s side, though the only thing the poke managed to do was make Sandor look down at the offending finger in what Sansa might have called amusement.  “Don’t touch him!”

Harry snarled at her, though it was nowhere near as frightening as when she’d seen Sandor do it.  “So it’s true then?!  When were you going to tell me you’ve been screwing around with your _neighbor_?”

“I’m not!”  Sansa screeched, stamping her foot, then feeling childish for doing it.  “I haven’t screwed around with anyone!  You’re the one that’s screwed around, _not me_!”

“Oh, so he’s just your neighbor then?”  Harry glared up at Sandor, and Sansa was almost a little impressed that Harry had the nerve to continue in this vein, insulting someone so much larger than himself.

“No,” Sansa said, stepping between the two of them, Sandor at her back.  “He’s not _just my neighbor_.  He’s someone who saved my life, or have you forgotten?  I may not have lived to have met you if it wasn’t for him.  Our daughter may never have been born if it wasn’t for him.  He’s my friend, and he’s her friend.  There is nothing inappropriate or sexual about my relationship with him, but even if there was, it wouldn’t be your business.”

“Not my business?”  Harry asked through gritted teeth.  “This man is spending time around my kid.  This man, who by your own admission, nearly beat someone to death…”

“SOMEONE WHO HAD HURT ME!”  Sansa exploded. 

“And now,” Harry continued, “He has bought our child a very expensive gift.  Do you really think he did that with no strings attached, Sansa?  Are you that stupid?”

Behind her, Sandor let out a low growl, but she turned and placed her hand on his arm, looking up at him, trying to convey that she had this and he didn’t need to intervene.

He met her look with flashing silver eyes and seemed to calm, his gaze flicking back to Harry.

“Maybe I am stupid, Harry.  After all, I stayed with you after you repeatedly treated me like I wasn’t enough for you.”  


“Sansa…”  


She held up a hand to silence him.  “I was stupid with Joffrey and I was stupid with you.  Maybe I’m destined to be stupid when it comes to romance and because of that, maybe I’m done with it.  But _this_ ,” here, she waved her hand between herself and Sandor, “Is one of the smartest things I’ve done.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief at everything she said.  He gave a scoff.  “That’s what it is to _you_ , Sansa.  It may be innocent in your eyes.  But how can you not see?  He’s using Lyanna to get to you.”

“That may be what you would do,” Sandor said quietly, his eyes glittering with malice.  “That may be what you’re doing with your own kid.  I don’t use kids to get to their moms.  Might be you haven’t noticed that you’ve got a smart kid, a funny kid…might be if you spent time with her you’d see that the little lass can win friends all on her own, and isn’t just a means to an end.”

Sansa turned back to him, unable to hide her smile.  Some warm, swelling _something_ was growing in her chest as she looked at him and heard him talk about her daughter.  Maybe Harry didn’t know, maybe Catelyn didn’t know, but Sansa _knew_ that Sandor’s affection for Lyanna was real, and despite how Sandor may or may not feel about her, she knew he would be there for Lyanna.

“You’ll see, Sansa,” Harry said.  “A pool is a widely inappropriate gift for the daughter of one’s neighbor.  You’ll see it eventually.”  With that, Harry spun around and hurried down the deck, exiting out the back gate. 

Sansa ran down the steps and watched him as he got into his car.  She hadn’t expected him to just leave without telling his daughter good-bye, and at the realization that Harry was abandoning his child’s party, she felt the sting of tears.  She wiped furiously at her eyes and turned back to the house, bumping into a solid wall of muscle.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said weakly, staring at Sandor’s chest.  She didn’t want to look up at him lest he see her tears. 

He’d seen them anyway.

“Little Bird,” his breath ghosted over the top of her head.  He lifted a finger to her cheek, swiping at a tear.  “Don’t give him your tears.  He doesn’t deserve them.”

“They aren’t for him,” Sansa said quietly.  “They’re for Lyanna.  He didn’t even tell her good-bye.”

She sniffled, unable to stop her emotions from leaking out of her.  She was embarrassed, standing there crying in front of Sandor, who she knew would think she was weak.

“I’m sorry,” she said, scrubbing at her face.  “He’s right.  I am stupid.  He’s only wrong about what makes me stupid.”  She let out a bitter laugh.

“Not stupid.”  He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and while it wasn’t what most people might do to comfort a friend, Sansa realized the gesture for what is was. 

Hardly thinking about what she was doing, she threw her arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest, another sob escaping her.  “Why would he just leave her?  He’s hardly seen her since we left and he just…why?  She deserves better than that.”

He patted her awkwardly, then looped the hand on her shoulder around her back, his other hand going to her hair.  “You can’t make him worthy of her.  One day he’s going to realize what he’s missing out on, then you can decide if you want to allow it.  For now, she’s got you.  And she’s damn lucky to have you, Little Bird.”

She pulled back, looking up into his face.  “Do you really think that?  I’m not trying to goad you, I just…I feel like I’m always stumbling.  I’m away from her way more than I want to be.  I took her away from everything she’s ever known, moved her here away from most of our family.  I did it to get away from Harry, get some space, but it was selfish.  I always question whether or not I’m doing right by her.”

“You are,” he let go of her and she hastily stepped away, feeling some shame for clinging to him like she had.  “You work, you put food on the table, you make sure she’s got clothes on her back, and you love her.  You’re doing everything you’re supposed to.”

It was strange to hear the word _love_ out of Sandor’s mouth.  She was sure she’d never heard it before and was startled to realize it was because she had thought him incapable of recognizing the emotion.  With a shuddering breath, she looked back up at her house.

“I need to get back,” she told him.  “Party’s almost over and I’ve got to clean up.”

He nodded.  “I’ll help you.  Then the little lass can take a dip and show off those swimming skills.”

Sansa laughed and nodded.  “Prepare to be impressed.”

The two of them returned to the party to some peculiar looks that Sansa decided to ignore.  Catelyn’s gaze was the hardest to avoid.  Her mother was giving her a quizzical look, likely wondering what had happened to Harry.  Margaery’s eyes were swinging between Sansa and Sandor, likely wondering what had warranted the two of them to hang behind with Harry.  Ned was blessedly trying to pretend everything was normal, chatting with Robb about Jeyne’s family and when they could get together for dinner.

Lyanna and Pupcake were sitting in the floor of the front living room, examining pool toys, Arya sitting on the couch watching her.  The girl looked up at Sansa, then looked beyond her at Sandor, and then past him.  “Where daddy?”

“He had to leave,” Sansa said, trying to stay calm.

Arya’s eyes found Sansa’s.  She looked angry, but Sansa shook her head, silently begging her to leave it alone.  She began cleaning up and Catelyn helped her, thankfully not saying anything in mixed company.  People began leaving, until only Catelyn, Ned, Arya, Gendry, and Sandor were left.  He kept looking at her, seeming to silently ask if he needed to leave, looking at her and looking at the door.  She just shook her head.

Gendry announced that he had to go to work otherwise he’d anger the boss, winking at Sandor as he headed for the door.  Sandor just rolled his eyes as he worked on blowing up some of the floats with a bicycle pump.  Arya refused to leave, watching Catelyn as though worried she would pounce on Sansa if Arya let her out of her sight. 

Ned was conspicuously checking his watch, clearly trying to signal to Catelyn that it was time to leave.  With Sandor and Arya occupied with Lyanna, Catelyn made for the door, turning back to Sansa, “Walk me out, dear?”

Sansa struggled not to groan in frustration.  Arya hopped up, but Sansa held up a hand, indicating she should stay put and Arya reluctantly sat back down.

Sansa followed her parents to their car, where Catelyn immediately turned on her, lips pursed and eyes wide.

“I cannot _believe_ you pulled a stunt like that,” she admonished.

“Cat,” Ned said firmly.  “Now isn’t the time.”

Catelyn shot her husband a glare.  “Maybe it’s not, but it certainly wasn’t the time for Sansa to be parading men around Harry either.”

“ _Parading men?!_ ”  Sansa squeaked indignantly, her jaw dropping open.  “What _men_?  What parading??  What are you even talking about, Mother?  Listen to yourself!”

“Sansa,” Ned said warningly.  “Don’t take that tone.”

“I’ll take whatever tone I damn well please!”  She hadn’t meant to snap at her dad, but he’d said the wrong thing.  “I am not a child.  I am a fully grown woman and if _she_ ,” here she threw her hands out toward Catelyn, “can talk to me like that, then I can defend myself.”

“There’s nothing to defend,” Catelyn scoffed.  “You’re just being disrespectful.”

“ _You_ are being disrespectful,” Sansa hissed.  “I’m just trying to give my kid a good party with people she cares about and you say I’m parading men around in front of her dad?  Mom, Sandor is my neighbor.  More than that, he’s my friend.  But most importantly, Lyanna is crazy about him.  Why don’t you go tell her that he shouldn’t be at her party, hmm?  See how well she handles that.”

“He should’ve never been in the picture in the first place, Sansa.  You are setting an example for your child…”

“Oh, am I?  And what example is that, Mother?”

“Catelyn, please just get in the car,” Ned pleaded, his hand landing on her shoulder.  “This is going to accomplish nothing but to hurt both of you.  Let’s go home, calm down, and the two of you can talk later.”

“Oh, I still have plenty to say,” Sansa said, fuming and glaring at her mom.

 Catelyn shook her head, a look of disgust on her face.  “As do I,” she said quietly.  “We can sleep on it then and talk later.”

“Sleeping on it won’t change how I feel,” Sansa told her as she watched her get in the car.

Ned looked back as if to say something, his mouth falling open, but then he just shut it, lifted his hand in a wave, and slid into the driver’s seat.  As Sansa watched them pull down her driveway, she fought another round of angry tears.  She stomped back up to her door and slammed it shut once she was in the house.

_This is not how it was supposed to be today_. 

Arya and Sandor were both looking at her.  Lyanna was blessedly distracted, trying to put water wings on Pupcake.  Sansa wasn’t sure what to say to them, but was certain that they’d probably heard the yelling.

“Sorry about that,” she mumbled.

“Don’t!”  Both Sandor and Arya growled it at the same time, then turned and glared at one another.

“Mom is just pissed that she can’t control you,” Arya said, turning back to her.  “Remember how she was with Gendry?  I mean, technically she’s still like that, but my philosophy is that she can fuck right off if she don’t like…”

“Language!”  Sansa cut in, her eyes snapping to Lyanna, whose lips were pressed together, her eyes wide, knowing Arya had said a bad word.

“Hate to agree with the wolf-bitch…” Sandor started.

“LANGUAGE!!”  Sansa cried in exasperation.

“But she’s right.  Your life isn’t your mother’s business,” he finished, his lips twitching in amusement at her outburst.  “Now, wasn’t there some little lass that wanted to swim?”

“Ohhh, meee!”  Lyanna jumped up, startling Pupcake.  “Arry, you swim?”

“No swim suit.  Sorry, Squirt,” Arya told her.  “But I’ll help you get yours on.”

Sansa watched them head off to Lyanna’s room, then looked at Sandor expectantly.  “Well, aren’t you going home to change?” 

He blinked very slowly and looked at her in confusion.  “What?”

“I’m assuming you aren’t going to swim in jeans,” Sansa said.

“Why are you assuming I’m going to swim at all?”

“You bought her the pool.  It’s only right that you hang around to watch her enjoy it.”

“Little Bird, I can watch from your deck.  Or my backyard even.  There’s no reason for me to go swimming.”

Sansa utilized Sandor’s tactic of crossing her arms over her chest, trying to look intimidating, though she knew it was useless.  “There’s every reason for you to swim.  You can agree to it peacefully or I can ask Lyanna.”

His eyes narrowed.  “What if I can’t swim?”

Sansa snorted.  “It’s a four foot deep pool and you’re like, seven feet tall.  I think you’ll manage.”

“Six and half feet,” he corrected, still glaring at her.

Lyanna came skipping back into the living room wearing a Minnie Mouse bikini, trying to collect all of her pool toys in both of her little arms.  Arya leaned over to help her.

“Princess,” Sansa said casually, grinning wickedly at Sandor.  “Don’t you want Sandor to come swimming with you?”

She dropped all of the pool toys she had managed to gather and spun around.  “YES!  San-more, pretty please swim?”

“You play dirty,” he grumbled at Sansa, standing to leave.  Arya and Lyanna had already started toward the back door.

“Five minutes, Clegane,” she told him, heading toward her own bedroom to change.  “Five minutes and you better be back over here mostly naked and ready to swim!”

She blushed furiously at her own bold words, but thankfully, her back was to him.  She changed into her favorite retro two piece, a high-waisted turquoise halter suit with tiny red cherries printed on it.  She briefly remembered that when she was with Joffrey, he’d always wanted her to wear the skimpiest bikini she could find.  Harry had insisted that she wear one pieces after Lyanna had been born.

_To the Seven Hells with both of them_.  She wasn’t ashamed of her body, but she enjoyed looking classy too, even while wearing a swim suit.  The 1950s style suit was modest enough and Sansa felt good in it. 

She grabbed some beach towels from her bathroom closet and headed out to her deck.  Lyanna was being supremely impatient, not wanting to put on sunscreen, but Sansa talked her into it and then began spraying herself.  She was scrubbing the spray into her skin to make sure it was even when Sandor walked up.

_Damn it, why?_   She had done this to herself.  She could admit that.  She had manipulated him to get him over here half-naked and now that he was here, she decided she would deserve any loss of eloquence those muscles caused.  And they were just as glorious as she remembered.

There was nothing spectacular about the swim trunks, obviously.  They were just black, definitely shorter on him than they would be on anyone else. 

_Gods above, his legs are cut like marble too_.

He dashed up the steps in a very uncharacteristic manner, and then she watched in amusement as he tried to keep himself from hopping from foot to foot on the hot deck.  He’d forgotten shoes.

A giggle slipped out of her and he finally noticed her presence by the door, giving her a glower, before his expression completely changed.

He stopped his awkward shifting from foot to foot, he even stopped breathing it seemed like, and examined her from head to toe, his eyes lingering on her chest, her waist, and her legs.

“Damn,” he mumbled.

Sansa thought perhaps he hadn’t meant for her to hear because the poor man looked rather dumb struck.  He shook it off quick enough though and seemed to remember that her deck was hot, taking a seat in one of Sansa’s deck chairs.

Arya watched the whole exchange, her expression some weird combination of amused and grossed out.  “Well, Squirt.  I have no swimsuit, so I think I’ll be going now.”

“Awww!”  Lyanna said, holding her arms up for a hug.  Arya gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“Later, San.  Don’t worry about Mom.  And…uh…have fun.”  She dashed through the gate, fighting with Pupcake to keep the puppy from following her, and was off before Sansa could sass back to her.

The three of them climbed in the pool, Sansa noticing that a shiver ran through Sandor.

“Big bad Hound can’t handle some chilly water?”  She asked him, cocking a brow.

He gave her that glare again that no longer intimidated her at all; in fact she found it amusing.

“You’re from the North,” he grumbled.  “You’re used to freezing your bollocks off…or well…whatever ladies freeze off.”

Sansa released Lyanna from her hip into the water without a float.  Sandor blanched a bit, anxiety clearly gripping him as he watched her toddler paddle around unassisted.  But he finally seemed to realize that Lyanna was a pro and relaxed a bit. 

“How did you figure out she could swim without having a heart attack?”  He asked her.

Sansa thought about it for a moment.  “Well, I’ve always had a pool.  My parents had a pool, then when I moved in with Harry, our apartment complex had a pool…as soon as she was born I had her in the water.  Despite being from the North, all of us Starks are strong swimmers.  There’s natural hot springs on our property back home, some of them deep enough that we couldn’t touch the bottom.  We swam year-round.  Because of that, I was in the pool every chance I got.  Even during the winter, every couple of weeks I’d take her to an indoor pool.  By the time she was one, she already knew how to hold her breath under water.  By the time she was two, she was dog paddling, and now…well…”

They watched Lyanna do a clumsy breast-stroke across the pool, and while her technique may have been lacking, Sansa knew she was a natural.

“She’s like a fish,” Sandor said, sounding impressed.  “Probably a stronger swimmer than me already.”

When Lyanna needed a break, Sansa dropped her into a ring float and let her relax.  Sandor leaned against the wall of the pool, his sunglasses over his eyes, and his head propped against the edge.  Assuming he couldn’t see her, Sansa took the time to study those tattoos she hadn’t got a good look at the last time she’d seen him shirtless.

The script over his heart read:  _A dog will die for you, but never lie to you._

She thought she may have heard him say it before.  She remembered that he abhorred liars and he was always very honest, to the point of insensitivity sometimes.  The tattoo on his right bicep was of a dagger.  The hilt was intricate and the blade went almost to his elbow.  A middle portion of the blade had “disappeared”, giving the illusion that the dagger was stuck in his skin.  Sansa wondered why she’d never noticed it before.  She had certainly seen him in plenty of shirts that would have exposed the bottom part of the tattoo.  But then, for years she had avoided looking at him.

Her curiosity only partially sated, she wanted to ask him about the one on his back.  All she could tell was that it was between his shoulder blades and it appeared to be two dates and some words scrawled in a looping script.  She moved around him, studying the tattoo on his left arm, the skull with half its face on fire.  The skull’s mouth opened in an agonized scream and Sansa couldn’t stop the image of Sandor screaming in pain as well.  The picture of this big, strong man screaming in agony rattled something inside her.

Then she remembered that he hadn’t been a man when it had happened, just a boy, only a bit older than Lyanna.  Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached out and traced the tattoo with her fingers.

Sandor jerked, and then jumped away in shock, his sunglasses falling off his face as he gave her an astonished look.  He rubbed his arm where she’d touched him, almost as though he couldn’t believe she’d done it.

“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…I shouldn’t have touched you.  I apologize…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, but didn’t sink back into the water.  He scratched at his arm where she’d touched him.

_I’ve ruined it_ , Sansa thought.  She was a toucher, always had been.  Sometimes it was hard to remember her boundaries around people she cared about.  It had always been an issue with Arya too.

_Wait, I care about him?  Well, yeah, I do, but…_

“Little Bird?”  He was studying her face now.  “You okay?”

“I- yes.  I’m fine.  I’m just sorry.  Arya’s always telling me I don’t respect personal space.  I’m just embarrassed.”

Sandor looked away, watching Lyanna splash at the water in front of her, happy to drift along.

“Don’t be,” he said finally. 

She wanted to ask why because she _knew_ she was out of line.  Instead, she said, “I was just admiring your tattoos.  The one I touched…it reminded me that you were just a kid when…”

“Yeah,” he said shortly, still not looking at her.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  He was glowering now, seemingly aggravated at her.

“Mommy, San-more, I hungry!”  Lyanna announced.

“You had pizza a couple of hours ago!”  Sansa reminded her.

“Hungry again,” Lyanna said with a shrug, as if Sansa should have expected this, giving a little roll of her eyes to emphasize her mom’s silliness.

“Let’s get you out then,” Sansa said, climbing the ladder and then helping Lyanna out.  Sandor followed, drying off with the towel he brought.  He wrapped it around his waist and made to head for the gate.

“Wait,” she called to him, not knowing what she was even going to say.  “Don’t you…want to come in?”

Her own forwardness shocked her.  Sandor had already been at her house for several hours.  She’d already made both Harry and her mother mad because of his presence; but she didn’t want him to go. 

He stopped and turned back slowly.  He still looked a little aggravated, but also…intrigued.  Like he couldn’t believe she was asking him to stay.

He shook his head.  “Work,” he said gruffly.  “Need to catch a nap, clean up…”  He trailed off, giving a shake of his head as though he was confused.  “Hope you had a good birthday, Lass.”

“Bye, San-more!”  Lyanna called, waving frantically as she watched him open the gate.

For some reason that Sansa couldn’t quite explain to herself, she felt a little sad.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will definitely be the last chapter for awhile (at least a week, probably longer). I was afraid I wouldn't get it out and kind of broke my own rule. Chapter 20 isn't fully edited yet, but I figured since this goes hand in hand with chapter 14, I shouldn't post them so far apart.


	16. No big deal, just putting my fucking heart on the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor has an inner struggle to accept his feelings and decides to go out on a limb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all Sandor's POV. The first part is mostly some introspection and not a lot of dialogue, but it picks up about mid-way through. :)

(Sandor)

Sandor tried to nap, but couldn’t make his mind quiet down enough to rest.  He kept feeling phantom fingers on his left arm and found himself scratching at it.  He had jumped away from her as if she’d burned him.  But no burn had ever felt so good.

Once he gave up on his nap, he showered and tried not to think about how Sansa had looked in that swimsuit.  He prided himself on his composure, but he had almost completely lost it when he’d seen her.  He knew when she’d ordered him to get his swim trunks on that he would come back to find her ready to swim too, but he hadn’t taken into consideration how that would affect him.

Most younger women in Rosby had tans this time of year, either from exposure to the sun or from laying in tanning beds to make sure there were no tan lines.  In the South around the Crownlands, and the Reach, and especially Dorne, a tan was almost a fashion accessory and many men seemed to appreciate the tanned look on women.

But Sandor much preferred the smooth ivory of Sansa’s skin.  While her swimsuit may have been modest by King’s Landing standards, Sandor was sure he’d never seen anything sexier.  He remembered her as a teenager when he’d seen her at Joffrey’s pool parties.  She had been beautiful then too, of course, but so thin that he could count her ribs.

She had filled out since then.  Her breasts filled out her swimsuit top wonderfully and her hips curved deliciously towards her tiny waist, and he could just make out her small belly button peaking over her high-waist bottoms.  And those legs…

Sandor squeezed his eyes shut as the water pounded over his head, turning the hot down and the cold up as he fought to get control of his thoughts.  _Those gods-damned legs are a mile long_.

Sandor hadn’t actually planned on working that night, but he couldn’t be idle now.  Sansa had invited him to stay longer and he had _wanted_ to.  He could have stayed with her all night and therein lay the problem.

_I like her_.  He could admit that to himself.  Seven Hells, it was the understatement of the year to be honest.  He had _liked_ her for a long time, he just hadn’t realized it until he’d made a conscious effort to be less angry about everything. 

He was angry now though.  The anger he felt was directed at himself, but it was there.  He didn’t know why he was torturing himself like this, letting Sansa Stark get to him.  He was finding more and more that he craved her smiles and her touches and her gentle teasing.  It was getting harder and harder to be gruff and indifferent with her.  It was true that Lyanna’s presence may have softened him up a bit, but any seed of softness buried beneath that had flourished around Lyanna had been planted by Sansa years ago.

Sansa may have been scared of him, but she had always been kind to him.  She was kind to most everyone though.  _Nothing special about her kindness, dog.  She likes everyone._

For about the thousandth time, Sandor wondered how that Harry cunt had gotten so fucked up in the head that he thought he needed someone other than Sansa.  The buggering idiot had the fucking world and he’d thrown it away for some side piece.

As Sandor stepped out of the shower, he stopped in front of the mirror.  It was fogged up, so he took his hand, wiping away the condensation and stared at the reflection he loathed.  Most times he avoided mirrors at all costs.  He’d trim his beard and make sure his hair looked decent, all while trying to ignore the ruin of his face.  But sometimes, he’d stop and stare in his mirror, trying to see past those scars, hoping that maybe one day he’d wake up and realize that they weren’t as bad as he made them out to be.

He was always disappointed and disgusted.  _Fucking monster is what you are_ , he thought as he glared at the wreckage that was half his face.  He looked like a monster and he’d spent plenty of time acting like a monster too.  He’d told himself for years that if his attitude repelled people, then maybe he could keep himself from getting hurt.

Seven knew that he had experienced plenty of pain in his life, not just physical.  The thought that his brother had purposely disfigured him and didn’t give a damn had left a hole in him at a young age.  He’d still had the capacity to love then though, despite the fact that Gregor received no punishment and his parents had utterly ignored the trauma it had caused their youngest son.

He’d still had his sister then, though.  She’d lessened the emotional hurt somewhat.  But when Elinor had died, supposedly from an accidental tumble down the stairs, Sandor had completely shut himself off, not least of all because he knew deep down that she’d had assistance with that fall down the stairs. 

Gregor was behind everything.  Everywhere he went, he brought ruin.  Sandor had spent a long time bitter that Gregor was still alive and thriving, but he had let go of a lot of the rage.  Rage had only made him miserable and most days now, he could push past it.

But looking in that mirror, knowing that Sansa would only ever see ugly, knowing she would only ever feel pity, Sandor had to fight to control that rage. 

He went to work that night completely distracted.  It was not a good night to be distracted because the bar was busy, and several times, his bartenders shot him a look as if asking why he was fucking things up when he was normally a perfectionist.  After several hours of feeling agitated and unfocused, he finally stepped out front to take a break. 

There were several people outside smoking since his bar didn’t allow it, but he ignored the smoke clouds and took a seat on the bench in front of his window.  Elbows propped on his knees, he stared at the sidewalk, trying to figure out why he felt so peculiar. 

When the realization came to him, it wasn’t so much a slap in the face as it was a feeling akin to ‘ _of course you dumb ass, why did it take so long to see it’_.

_I want to be with her._ He didn’t just like her.  He didn’t just think that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  There was a lot more there that he wasn’t quite ready to examine, but he was sure that he wanted her.  She probably didn’t want him, but it dawned on him that this is why he was agitated.  Before, he was completely content to want something and never be able to have it.  Now, well… _now I have to fucking try or it will drive me insane._

When Sandor had finally puzzled out why he was feeling so strange, he felt better, like he could actually go do his fucking job with efficiency rather than acting like an amateur.  As he went back to work, a plan was forming for what he would do with his new knowledge.

Sandor didn’t get up until around ten on Sunday morning.  He worked out, then showered and dressed, selecting his usual combination of jeans and a plain tee shirt.  Stranger was beside himself with confusion, somehow sensing that it was Sunday and that it was _supposed_ to be a lazy day in which his master lounged around in gym shorts with no shirt, but the dog sensed that his human was showing all signs that he was not going to be lazy today.  Sandor fed him, walked outside with him, and sat on his back step, occasionally glancing towards Sansa’s house, wondering if his girls would come out.

They didn’t disappoint.  It was almost as though if Pupcake knew Stranger was outside, that she would choose that moment to shoot through her dog door to go potty.  The little feist hurried over to the fence, barking excitedly at Stranger who went to greet her.  Lyanna and Sansa weren’t far behind.  He stood up and walked to the fence to greet them.

“You swim today, San-more?” Lyanna asked, grinning up at him sweetly. 

“Of course,” he told her, then looked up at Sansa.  Gods, but she looked fantastic.  She was wearing tiny black shorts and a fitted gray tee shirt that hugged those curves he remembered so well from yesterday.  “But first, how about lunch?”

Sansa’s face brightened at that and she gave him a smile that did funny things to his stomach.  “What did you have in mind?”  She asked.

Sandor hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.  As far as he knew, all Lyanna ate was pizza and chicken and the occasional grilled cheese sandwich.  He wanted it to be casual.  The last thing he wanted was for Sansa to think he was trapping her into a date.  _Even though that’s exactly what you’re doing, you asshole._

“My bar?”  He suggested, then felt kind of stupid for saying it.  The food was exceptionally good for a bar and he knew that Lyanna would eat several of the things listed on his menu, but he didn’t want Sansa to get the impression that he’d only eat out at his own grill.

“That sounds great,” Sansa said.  “Arya said the food was really good.”

Lyanna squinted up at him, probably half-blinded by the mid-day sun.  “You have nuggets?”

“I have chicken tenders,” he told her.

She considered this a minute, and then gave a quick nod, eerily reminiscent of his own solo nod, and then gave him a thumbs up. 

A few minutes later, they were trying to figure out whose vehicle to take.  Sansa had offered to drive so Lyanna’s car seat wouldn’t have to be moved, but Sandor gave her car one glance and firmly said, “No.”

“Why not?”

Sandor looked from the small black Civic to Sansa and then down at himself, before giving her a pointed look.

“Oh,” she giggled.  “Yeah, I’d hate to have to fold you into the car.”

“Take motorcycle?” Lyanna suggested with a wicked grin and an adorable eyebrow wiggle.

“Umm, that’s a negative, Princess,” Sansa said.  “Only two people can ride that.”

Lyanna shrugged as if this was no big thing.  “I ride with San-more.  You drive Momma’s car.”

Sandor snorted, shaking his head.  “Let’s just move her car seat to my truck.  It’s got enough leg room and my back seat is probably bigger than your whole car.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and acquiesced and soon enough they were off. 

The only thing, Sandor thought, was that Sansa was too far away from him in his truck.  There was a middle console in the front seat.  He couldn’t stop the images he had of their hands meeting in the middle of the console and entwining.  But Sansa’s hands were clasped in her lap over her crossed legs and she was looking out the window.  From the middle of the backseat, Lyanna was loudly singing something about a baby shark and a momma shark. 

_I could almost pretend this is real_ , he thought bitterly.  _If I had a normal face and a normal life, this might be me and my family on a Sunday drive._

As soon as he realized where his thoughts were headed, his mood darkened.  _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Sansa interrupted his brooding by quietly revealing that Harry had tried to call her earlier that morning.

“Is that so?”  He rasped, not looking at her.

“Yeah.  I didn’t answer so he sent me a bunch of text messages.  I have no idea what to do about him.”

“It’s not rocket science,” he growled.  “You just ignore the asshole.”

“Sandor,” she said warningly, her head snapping around to look at him.  She gave a jerk of her head to the backseat where Lyanna sat.  “I know what he is, okay?  I just don’t know that she needs to know it yet.”

He wanted to stop it there, but he was too gods-damned mean.  “And why not?  You want the lass to grow up thinking everything is perfect in the world?  That life is a song?”  He scoffed.  “I thought you knew better.”

_You prick_.

Sansa grew quiet after that, staring out the window the rest of the way to his bar.  Lyanna had gone quiet as well, seemingly picking up on the tense energy in the truck.

Sandor pulled up in front of his bar and hopped out, already working on unbuckling Lyanna by the time Sansa had climbed out.

“I could’ve done that,” she said.

“Got it,” he answered.

He carried Lyanna in, glad that it was Sunday and that the only people in the place were having lunch.  He knew it would get busier after Sept let out, but they had beat the lunch crowd. 

The hostess gave him a friendly smile and said “Choose wherever you want, boss,” before retrieving their menus.

They chose a booth near the window, Sansa and Lyanna sitting on one side, and Sandor on the opposite side.  After they ordered, things were still too quiet and Sandor knew he was fucking this up somehow.  He’d been mean for no reason in the car and he wasn’t sure what to say to make it right.  Sansa’s phone dinged and she looked down at it dubiously and gave a sigh.

Sandor pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing it was the blonde cunt again.  “Maybe you should read it,” he grumbled.

Sansa tapped her phone and opened the message.  “More of the same,” she said.  “He’s sorry.  He’s just looking out for me.  He’s just looking out for Lyanna.  Blah, blah, blah…”

Sandor decided to come clean then.  It occurred to him that Harry was, if not completely correct about Sandor’s intent, then at least halfway right.  He would never have used Lyanna to get to Sansa, and he didn’t expect Sansa to do him any favors just because he was good to her kid.  But he _did_ want her.

“Maybe he’s right to look out for you,” Sandor grudgingly admitted.

Wide blue eyes shot up to meet his, her mouth falling open a little as she said, “Oh?”

He swallowed past a lump in his throat and fought not to look away from her.  “Aye.”

“And why do you suddenly agree with him?”

Sandor’s gaze shifted to Lyanna, who seemed to be paying them no attention as she was furiously scribbling on her kids’ menu with a cheap crayon.  When he looked back to Sansa, she looked…nervous.

_Great, now I’m making her nervous.  Good job, motherfucker._

The waitress appeared then, setting their plates in front of them, and Sandor was hoping she would let it drop momentarily; instead, she picked up her fork and dug through her salad, all while looking at him expectantly.

He took a bite of his burger and took his time chewing, looking around but still feeling her gaze fixed on him.  He swallowed and took a drink, finally meeting her eyes again.

“Look, I would never befriend your kid just to…get in your pants,” he shot a look to Lyanna, wondering if that was too suggestive, but she was now too wrapped up in coloring with one hand and dipping her fries into some weird mixture of ketchup and ranch with the other.

“I know that,” Sansa said quickly.  “Believe me, I don’t doubt you at all.”

He frowned at her then.  “Always so trusting, Little Bird.”

Her soft expression changed then, turning a bit cooler towards him.  “Maybe, but trusting you has yet to fail me.  I don’t think I like you chastising me for being your friend.”

He groaned in frustration.  “Little Bird… _Sansa_ , that’s not what I’m trying to do here.”

“Then what is it?  You’re hardly making sense.  You get mad at me on the way here because I won’t just come out and tell Harry to fuck off…”

“Language!”  Lyanna snapped, before turning her attention back to her food.

Sansa sighed.  “And now, you’re telling me Harry is right for being cautious about you.”

Sandor leaned back in the booth, studying her face, wondering how in the hell he was ever going to get this out.  He had to though, because to keep it from her was one step away from lying and that was something he just didn’t do.

“Harry’s right to be cautious about me,” he said finally, “Because I like you.  And I guess he could see that.”

Sansa’s fork hit her plate with a loud clatter and Sandor fought the urge to jerk at the sound.  Her hand still hovered over her plate as if the utensil was still in her hand and her brow was knitted in confusion.

Sandor decided not to say anything else just then.  He picked up his burger and proceeded to eat while she just sat there, staring at him, seemingly contemplating what to say.

“I like you too, Mommy,” Lyanna added belatedly, dipping a finger into her ranch-ketchup mix and popping it in her mouth.

_For Seven’s sake, woman, say something_ , he thought as he sat there, likely looking like the vision of calm on the outside while inside he was a mess.

After he had downed several bites of his meal, Sansa finally spoke.  “You like me?  How…what do you mean…?”

Sandor shrugged.  “I like you, Little Bird.  I’ve always liked you.  I just realized that if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive.  So…now I’ve told you.”  He shrugged again.  _No big deal, just putting my fucking heart on the line.  Not like I do this every day or anything_.

He thought he’d made his meaning pretty clear, but the Little Bird still looked utterly confused, as if she were trying to solve an exceedingly difficult math problem.  He fought to stay patient, continuing his meal as if his confession were no big deal.

She cleared her throat, retrieved her fork, and said, “You like me how?  Like, we’re friends and you like me instead of hate me…or you…like me as in…”

Sandor tossed down the fries he was about to eat and dropped his head in his hands.  “Seven Hells, Sansa.  I like you.  I want to date you.  I want to take you out to eat.  I want to interact with you as more than just a neighbor or your babysitter or whatever…”  He looked up at her in exasperation, then glanced at Lyanna.  “Not that I don’t want those other things.  She’s my bro.  But if there’s a possibility that the other stuff could happen…”

“Yes,” Sansa cut him off and his eyes snapped back to her.  “Yes, I want that.  I…”

“Don’t you need to think about it?”  Sansa gave him an odd look, but he was serious.  He hadn’t expected an immediate answer.  “I, uh, thought it might be too soon for you after…”

“I want that,” she cut him off again, nodding her head in earnest. 

“Want what?” 

“What you just said,” she told him, waving her hands at him.  “The dating and all that,” she worried her bottom lip between her teeth nervously and Sandor found himself distracted, entirely unable to stop himself from picturing himself biting that lip.

“I’m not trying to pressure you…”

“I know, I know,” she cut him off a third time, and he gave her an annoyed look, and she squeaked, “Sorry.”

He smirked at her.  “The Little Bird is being abnormally impolite,” he teased her.

“Sorry,” she said again, quietly, but this time with a huge smile taking over her face.

“So…” Sandor said, getting back to his meal.  “We doing this then?”

“You bet, San-More,” she said, going back to her own meal.

After lunch, they went for ice cream.  After ice cream, they all got in the pool again.  He was aching to touch her now that he knew she might be okay with it, but he restrained himself, and instead played with Lyanna.  After the pool, they blew bubbles in the front yard.  After the bubbles, Lyanna insisted that they all play with her sidewalk chalk.  Sandor watched as the two girls in his life played hopscotch while he sat on the porch, wondering how he’d gotten lucky enough to even get a piece of this.

The afternoon flew by.  They ate supper together and then settled down to watch movies.  Lyanna promptly fell asleep halfway through the second one, and Sansa lifted her to carry her to her bedroom.  Sandor was standing in the kitchen, finishing his glass of water when Sansa found him again.  Her kitchen was small, so when she leaned her back against the stove, she stood directly across from him within arms’ length.

She looked up at him expectantly, one of her dark red brows lifting in question.  “So…about this dating thing.”


	17. You're going to make me formally ask you on a date now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> errrmmm....
> 
> Make-out session? enough said :)

Sansa had been waiting all day for this conversation. He had thrown her a bit off balance with his admission earlier, but she knew instantly it was something she wanted.  She hadn’t let her mind dwell on the increasing attraction she’d felt for him over the last few weeks, but that was due in part to the fact that she didn’t think he was interested in her in the same way.  The other part was that she really was quite fresh out of a serious relationship.

But he hadn’t really asked for a serious relationship. He said he wanted to date her and Sansa would have been lying if she denied that she wanted that too.  And Sandor hated liars.

And so they stood, Sandor leaning against the counter and Sansa leaning against her oven, on opposite sides of the kitchen, facing one another. Sansa could feel that now-familiar spark crackle between them as their eyes met, and she felt a tug at the corner of her mouth.

He cleared his throat. “What about it?”

“Well, now that we know we both want it…don’t you think you should properly ask me?” She grinned at the exasperated look on his face.

“You’re going to make me formally ask you on a date now?” His silver-grey eyes were lit with mirth and she was happy that he didn’t mind her teasing him.

“Oh, absolutely.”

The smirk dropped off his face then as he studied her, pushing himself off the counter. He stepped directly in front of her, invading her space, getting so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.  Then he placed both of his hands against the stove she was leaning against, trapping her between two very muscular arms.  The proximity was unnerving and she felt her heart pick up speed as he looked down at her, those eyes glowing with a heat she wasn’t familiar with from him.

Shyly, she blinked, ducking her head and looking away. Her gaze fell to his chest and she had sudden urge to touch him. _What the hell_ , she thought, lifting her hand and placing it over his heart.  It thundered beneath her fingers and she wondered at the fact that she could affect him the same as he affected her.

“Sansa,” he rasped more softly than she thought him capable of. He took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up, his breathtaking grey eyes searching her own.  “Look at me.”  He’d said that same thing to her a handful of times, but never as tenderly as he said it now.

_He’s going to kiss me_ , Sansa thought. _He’s going to kiss me, he’s going to kiss me_.  Her eyes shifted to his lips and she couldn’t wait for him any longer.  The hand on his chest slid around his neck, followed by her other hand, and she lifted onto her tiptoes, pressing a soft, quick kiss against his mouth.

She pulled away and looked at him, hardly believing she’d just initiated a kiss with Sandor Clegane. He leaned down then, pressing his forehead to hers and Sansa’s heart stuttered at the sheer tenderness of the act.

His breath stirred the hair around her face that had escaped her ponytail. He dragged his bottom lip into his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth, worrying at it as if he were contemplating moving forward from here.  Then, slowly he lowered his mouth to hers and returned the same soft, gentle kiss, just a brush of his lips, but it was all the encouragement Sansa needed. 

Before Sandor could pull back, she pressed her mouth to his again, firmer this time, tightening her arms around his neck and going back to her tiptoes. She felt his mouth part and his breath rushed against her lips and then she was closing her lips over his bottom one, sucking it gently into her mouth.  His arms went around her then, pulling her against him and Sansa heard a moan, and it was a second before she realized that it had come from her.

She felt a hundred things at once. She felt safe. She felt desired.  She felt cared for.  She felt heat pool in her belly and saw lightning flash behind her eyes as he continued to kiss her.  In all of the times she had imagined kissing him, she had never imagined it like this.  She expected it would have been passionate, but in a harsh way, not this gentle, slow pulling of lips.  She had fantasized about him crushing her to him, bruising her lips and tugging her hair.  And she _wanted_ it that way.  But this…this was somehow better.  Sandor, ever determined to prove her wrong, held her tenderly, his arms looped around her back almost lazily.  And his lips were achingly soft, even on the scarred side, and she got a thrill at the small difference in how the sides of his mouth felt.

Sansa had to suppress a whimper when he pulled away, his eyes finding hers. She’d never seen much emotion from Sandor, other than irritation or anger.  But now she saw desire and definitely a softness she wasn’t used to.

She didn’t want to let go of him, and so they stood in her kitchen, holding one another and not saying a word, for what seemed like several minutes.

She watched as his lips quirked into a smirk. “Want to go on a date sometime?”

She snorted softly and smacked at his chest.

“You’re the one who wanted it done proper,” he said.

“And kissing me first is proper?” She asked him.

“You kissed me first,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yeah, well…details,” she said shrugging. Her hands slid down his chest, and she rather liked the feel of those well-defined muscles beneath her hands.  He slowly stepped away from her and she immediately missed touching him.

“It’s late,” he said in explanation, looking behind her at the clock on the oven. “You have class in the morning, so I better get going.”

Sansa nodded, her body feeling a little cold from his sudden absence. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

She led the way to the side door he always used and stepped out onto the porch with him. “Good night,” she said.

He gazed down at her and the softness was still there. He gave her a crooked smile, bent down to press another sweet kiss to her mouth. “Good night, Sansa,” he rasped against her lips, then turned and headed next door.

Sansa stood and watched him, absently touching her thoroughly kissed lips, and smiled to herself.

***

(Sandor)

There was no sleeping after that.

Sandor lay awake in bed until the early morning hours, replaying that kiss again and again. It was all of his tamer fantasies come to life.  No, actually it was better.  Nothing he dreamed up could touch what had just happened in Sansa’s kitchen.  And because the real thing was so much more fucking delicious than what he had imagined, other scenarios flashed through his brain that he had imagined and he wondered how much better those would be as well.

Tasting the sweet skin of Sansa’s throat. The slow slide of his tongue against hers.  Sansa writhing beneath him as he moved inside her.  Sansa’s long, delicious legs clamped tight around his ears as he tasted her.  Sansa calling out his name as she came….

Sandor bolted up in bed when he couldn’t take it anymore, resolved to take a cold shower to calm his ass down. He stood under the shower head, the cold water beating on his head, doing little to solve his problem, so he finally took himself in hand and came like a rocket with the image of her face swimming behind his closed eyes.  He shut the water off after he’d cleaned himself up and stood in the shower, catching his breath.

_I’m in trouble_ , he could admit that much.  He hadn’t imagined that she would so readily agree to going on a proper date with him.  Seven Hells, they hadn’t even made plans yet, but _she had kissed him_.  Of course, she had kissed him sweetly, almost innocently as was her nature, and he’d just had to take it a step further.

He had been gentle enough though. He hadn’t wanted to startle her with just how much he wanted her.  The fact that she seemed so receptive to him both confused him and thrilled him.

As he dried off and collapsed back into his bed naked, Sandor tried to remember when she had gone from a just another beautiful girl to the woman who starred in every one of his fantasies. The thought that she might be feeling a fraction for him what he felt for her made him nervous.  He didn’t think he could tolerate having a taste of her only to lose her.

_You don’t even have her yet, dumb cunt. She kissed you and agreed to a date_.

He knew it was more than that, definitely to him and likely for her too. He knew enough about her to know she wasn’t a casual dater.  He was terrified that he was going to screw up before he got a good shot at it.  He’d already had several near misses with some of the shitty things he’d said to her.  Still, his attitude lately was a major improvement from what she was accustomed to from him.

There was so much history between them and a lot of it didn’t hold happy memories for either of them. Once his thoughts drifted down that path, Sandor found himself lying awake, remembering their shared past.

When he’d first met her, he’d found himself snapping at her often. Most of it stemmed from her blindness when it came to the real Joffrey.  Looking back, being mean to her was maybe not the best method, but Sandor had told himself that there was no softening the blow, that she had to accept harsh realities if she planned on being with Joffrey.  Sandor knew that Joffrey would eventually treat her like shit, but he hadn’t really expected him to begin hitting her.

The first time it happened, it had startled Sandor to the point that he’d simply stood there, as though the blow Joffrey had delivered to Sansa’s pretty face had struck _him_ dumb.  Then, he’d looked away because he had felt anger rising in him.  Anger at Joffrey, and even anger at Sansa, because she hadn’t seen how truly awful Joffrey was, and now he’d hit her. 

Sandor later told Joffrey some bullshit about how slapping Sansa around would piss his mother off and he shouldn’t take her home with marks on her if he didn’t want to cause trouble between his parents and the Starks. Joffrey seemed to have a rare moment of sanity and agreed with him.  Sandor should have known that Joff had been too agreeable.  He should have known that from then on, Joffrey would make sure she was hit on a hidden part of her body for the most part, and that Meryn would be the one doing the hitting, essentially (at least in Joffrey’s mind) taking the blame off himself if it ever came to that.  He also tried to make sure to do it when Sandor was elsewhere.

First, Sandor had thought she was weak. What kind of girl would stay with a little shit that raised a hand to her?  The once-vibrant, happy, sweet girl turned into what amounted to a robot.  She was always agreeable, but lacked the enthusiasm needed for it to be sincere.  She was chirping whatever Joffrey and his mother wanted him to hear in order to try to stay in his good graces.  Sandor was beyond perplexed at her behavior.  Here was a girl from a powerful, wealthy family who was taking abuse from her shit-stain boyfriend and there was no reason for it.

She could have anyone. She was beautiful, smart, and legitimately a nice person.  It took Sandor a long time to see what was wrong with her.

Joffrey had broken her. She had no idea that she was beautiful and smart and nice because Joffrey constantly told her that there was something wrong with her.  Joffrey told her she was too tall.  Joffrey told her that the adorable freckles scattered across her nose were hideous and she needed to wear more makeup to cover them.  Joffrey told her that she was stupid.  Joffrey told her she was inconsiderate.

By the time Sandor realized it, Sansa was so far gone and still seemingly so afraid of him, that he was trying to find ways to follow the two of them around when they were together, whether he was on duty or not. He thought his presence often discouraged Joffrey from some of the abuse.  But one night he had gotten there too late.

Sandor had thought that Sansa being in a public place with Joffrey was about as safe as she’d get with him. Joffrey didn’t care about his image, per se, but he usually made a small effort to tone down the insanity when he was in public so it wouldn’t reflect too terribly on his parents and grandfather.

Finding her in that alley, blood covering her beautiful face, her chest jerking with the effort to breathe with broken ribs, had changed Sandor irrevocably. As much as it hurt to watch her struggle to breathe, he had been so grateful she was still breathing.  Something snapped in him.

Sandor had been in plenty of fights and was not known to lose. In fact, his monster of a brother was really the only man he could remember ever besting him.  With one hit, he’d taken care of Joffrey.  Meryn hadn’t been much of a challenge either, but rather than hitting him once, he’d hit him again and again and again…

There were never any charges brought forth once the cops had the story straight, and despite the Lannisters being enraged that he’d laid a hand on the boy he was paid to protect, Robert Baratheon had convinced them to let it go. Joffrey had much bigger problems than a broken nose, after all.

The prosecutor had initially sought attempted murder charges for both men, but after about a week had abruptly lessened the charge to first degree assault. Sandor guessed that the Lannisters had been behind it.  No deal had been reached however, and Joffrey had been a few weeks from trial when he’d died.

Joffrey, Trant, and some girl Sandor had never heard of, likely Joffrey’s new plaything, had been speeding down the highway. Joffrey was driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs; when he’d crashed, all three occupants had been killed. 

Sandor wondered if the Little Bird had been happy to hear that her tormentors were gone. Or had she mourned him because she had such a tender heart?  Maybe she was indifferent about the whole thing.  He’d never asked her and he hadn’t stuck around long enough for her to recover.  He figured she wouldn’t want to see him and he certainly never thought to lay eyes on her again.

_I don’t deserve this kind of luck_ , he thought for the thousandth time.  But maybe it was time to stop pondering why a woman like Sansa would give him the time of day, and for once, just enjoy the ride.

He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the way she felt in his arms and the feel of her mouth on his. The dreams were sweet and when he woke up the next morning, he was determined not to fuck this up.

 


	18. I'm yours and there's nothing either of us can do about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more smoochies and a little slip-up by Sansa.

When Sansa woke the next morning, there was an actual smile on her face. She licked her lips, searching for any lingering taste of him.  It was as though her chest had opened up and was being filled with an overload of pure bliss.  She hadn’t had a clue that kissing him would have this kind of effect on her. 

She went about her morning as usual. She fixed her coffee, woke Lyanna, ate breakfast, and dressed the both of them.  Everything was the same as it had been for the past few weeks, but she felt so _different_.  She still had the same old problems:  money, school, job, parenting, Harry…but all of the stress normally associated with doing it on her own just wasn’t present at that moment. 

The morning passed quickly and Sansa went back home after her classes to work on some of her sewing projects. Pupcake dozed at her feet, her head resting on a stuffed animal she had stolen from Lyanna.  Sansa’s phone pinged and she almost took a needle to the finger in her haste to grab it.  She was hoping it was Sandor.

**Arya: i need to know how the pool party went.  Did the squirt enjoy herself?**

_Sansa: Yes, she did.  Made Sandor swim with her yesterday too._

**Arya: ah so he didn’t die from a heart attack after seeing you near naked.  Good to know**

_Sansa: We’re doing this now, then?_

**Arya: fuck yeah, I waited a whole damn extra day b4 asking u.  now.  Details**

_Sansa: What details??  He went swimming with us.  Saturday and yesterday.  I thought it was only fair that he get to enjoy the expensive gift he bought._

**Arya: u thought it was only fair that u get to see his bare chest, u horn dog.**

_Sansa: Arya, it’s not like that._

**Arya: isn’t it?  well maybe not for u, despite ur admitted crush on him…but im a little surprised u didn’t combust from the look he gave u**

_Sansa: What look?_

**Arya: a hot one.  Like he might eat u alive.**

“I would totally be okay with that,” Sansa muttered to herself.

_Sansa: We had lunch and supper with him yesterday.  Practically spent the whole day with him.  He’s a pretty great guy actually…._

**Arya: yeah yeah u r literally the only person who would describe him like that.  Also, he’s just nice to u bc he’s got it bad for u.**

_Sansa: Got it bad?_

Sansa had decided playing a little dumb might benefit her. If other people noticed that Sandor was different with her, she definitely wanted to hear it. 

**Arya: San, u idiot.  He bought ur kid a pool.**

_Sansa: He didn’t do it for me.  He did it for Lyanna._

**Arya: ok then, he’s got it bad for both of u then.  Do u think he would be so attached to ur kid if he didn’t feel something for u too?**

_Sansa: I don’t know.  I think he’s much more fond of her than me lol_ … _though he did kiss me last night._

**Arya: WHAT?!  Y am I just now finding out?  Was it good?  Bad?  Weird bc of the scars??**

_Sansa: ARYA!  NO.  Who asks that??  Actually, it was amazing.  Like I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that._

**Arya: Like what?  Did he do some weird shit or something?**

_Sansa: UGH.  No, you brat.  It was just so…sweet.  Romantic.  I had no idea he could kiss like that.  It’s like I never want to kiss anyone else ever again._

**Arya: did u sleep with him?**

_Sansa: No!  It was just a kiss, you perv._

**Arya: ugh ur so boring.  Well I gotta get back to work.  He puts any more moves on u, let me know asap.**

“Nosey little beast,” Sansa said, getting back to her work. She was having a productive day and she was excited that it looked like she’d have enough stock to set up during the festival.  She worked clear through lunch without realizing it, and was only torn from her work when there was a knock at the sidedoor.

Her heart leapt into her throat. The only person she could think of who would knock at that door was the one who’d been occupying all her thoughts.  She opened it to him, standing there holding the storm door open with one hand and his other braced against the door frame, a heated look in his eyes that made her feel like she would melt. 

Sansa took a few steps back to let him in, though all she really wanted to do was move closer to him. He stepped inside, never taking his eyes off of her, and closed the door.  That look was akin to a predator stalking his prey and Sansa desperately wanted to be caught, but she was frozen to the spot, watching him.

He moved quicker than a man of his size had any right, and before she knew what was happening, he was in front of her. His left hand snaked around her waist and his right went to her hair, tugging gently, tilting her face up to his.  Her eyes fell shut and a moment later she could feel his breath caressing her skin.  His mustache whiskers tickled her lips as he hovered.  The anticipation was literally going to kill her.

Her hands curled into fists at his chest and tugged at his shirt in frustration. She felt, as well as heard, the deep rumble of his laugh.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” she croaked, surprised she was voicing those thoughts to him.

He dipped his head, mouth near her ear, and said, “Guess I’ll put you out of your misery.” Then she felt his teeth graze her earlobe, his breath on her neck making goosebumps explode across her skin, and she grabbed his head, pulling it back to her face.

It was different from the kiss last night; none of the slowness or gentleness, but still so sweet, so delicious that Sansa was lightheaded. His thumb caressed her jaw as he nipped at her lips, the fingers of his other hand were rubbing her back through her shirt, and all she could do was hold on, unbalanced on her tiptoes, and feeling like she could sink into him.

When he pulled away, he huffed out a laugh and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“For what, stopping?” She asked, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her face into those solid muscles that she couldn’t get enough of.

“For attacking you with my mouth,” he clarified, his hands now running up and down her back.

“Hmm. I’m thinking you should do it more often.”

“Yeah?”

She looked up at him and grinned. “Yep.  I’m actually wondering why we’ve never done that before.”

He shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I’ve caught myself thinking about doing it for six or seven years now.  And some of that time you were a minor, so I should probably be ashamed.”

That sparked her curiosity. “You’ve wanted to kiss me since you first met me?”

His brows furrowed as he thought about it for a few moments before answering. “Okay, maybe not since I first met you.  But long enough that I feel like a dumbass for waiting this long to do it.”

Sansa nodded. “I agree with that assessment.”

He gave her bottom a hardy slap and she jumped and squealed.

“That’ll show you,” he said.

“Joke’s on you. Maybe I like it,” she winked up at him.

“And now you’re killing me,” he groaned.

Something Sansa remembered from a few weeks prior suddenly resurfaced and her curiosity got the better of her. “That weekend that you disappeared…”

“I didn’t disappear,” he said, slightly exasperated. “I didn’t know I was reporting to you, Little Bird.”

She scowled up at him. “You aren’t.  It’s just that I was used to seeing you at certain times of the day and you weren’t there…where did you go?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking way more amused than Sansa liked. “Why is it so important for you to know?”

“Is it a secret or something?”

“Not at all. But watching you squirm wondering where I was is…interesting.”

Sansa bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to tell him what she was worried had happened. “Did…were you with a girl?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about?”  His eyes flicked back to her, mildly annoyed.  “Do you think I’d kiss you like that if I had a girlfriend?”

“I didn’t…it’s not that…ughhhh,” Sansa took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you had a girlfriend, but I thought that…well…”

She could tell by his expression that he was trying to be patient, but her stumbling over what she wanted to know was probably agitating him.

“Okay, look, you’re a single man. Successful, handsome…”  He rolled his eyes again and she slapped at his arm, “I just figured you probably dated.  And when you spent the whole weekend away, I thought maybe it was with a woman.”

“It was with Stranger,” he deadpanned.

“Where?”

“At my cabin on the God’s Eye,” he answered.

Her mouth dropped open. “You have a cabin on the God’s Eye??”

He nodded. “Yeah.  I mean, it’s jointly owned with one my bartenders, but it’s half mine.”

“Why aren’t you there every weekend?”

“Again, jointly owned. And the bartender in question only works days and is otherwise retired, so he spends more time there than I do.”

Sansa wanted to ask him to take her, but then thought maybe it was a little too soon for her to ask him to sweep her away to his secret hideaway. All this time, she’d worried he’d been away having a sexy weekend with some bimbo, and she thought herself foolish now, realizing that she might have been jealous.  Sandor seemed to think the same thing because he was studying her with a smug look on his face.  She tried to pinch his arm, but there was virtually no fat on him, so it didn’t have the desired effect.

“Abusive bird,” he muttered, pulling her tighter against him. “Who knew you could be territorial?”

Sansa’s cheeks flushed and she had to look away from that penetrating gaze for moment. “Is it considered territorial if you aren’t actually mine?”  At the strange look on his face, she tried to explain herself.  “I mean, we obviously like each other and I’m really hoping there is a date in the very near future, but I guess I don’t have any right to be jealous.”

He huffed out a breath and though she wasn’t looking at him, she imagined he was rolling his eyes right now. “Sansa,” he rasped, dropping his head down, his chin resting on her head.  And by the Seven, did she love the way her name sounded on his tongue.  He so rarely said her actual name, usually opting to call her Little Bird, that when she _did_ hear her name out of his mouth, it gave her goosebumps.  “I don’t lie, not even by omission, normally.  So you need to know that whatever this is, or will be, or won’t be…the result is the same. I’m yours and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.  Not trying to run you off.  It’s just facts.”

She felt light, and happy, and powerful, and when she looked back at him, she gave him a radiant smile. “Those are facts I can live with, I think.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then reminded her it was almost time for her to leave for work and for him to pick up Lyanna. They walked out together, her fingers laced with his, and he gave her another heart-stopping kiss at her car. 

“About that date…” She said as he was pulling away. “When were you thinking we could make that happen?”

Sandor shrugged. “I’m guessing whenever you can find a sitter.”

Sansa nodded. “I’ll get in touch with Arya and let you know.” 

She leaned up on her tiptoes, brushing one more kiss against his mouth, then watched as he drove away on his bike.

She smiled all the way to work and once there, her good mood stayed with her. She sent a text to Arya, who confirmed she was off all day Friday and could watch Lyanna.  Sansa didn’t get off until 7, so it would be a later date.  About halfway through her shift, she was helping Baelish in his office, counting down the minutes until she got her break, when the department secretary stuck her head in the office.

“Hey, Sansa, you have some visitors,” she said, giving her a wink. “It’s your break time anyway, sweetie.”

Baelish glared at the back of the secretary, probably disliking the fact that she had given Sansa permission for break.

“Excuse me,” Sansa said quietly, feeling his eyes on her all the way out of the office. She made her way down the hall and turned into the lounge to find Sandor and Lyanna sitting in chairs, whispering conspiratorially about Seven knew what.

She cleared her throat to get their attention. “Can I help the two of you?”

“We bring you supper,” Lyanna said, hopping off the chair, her sneakers lighting up as she hit the ground.

Sandor stood as well, offering her a Tupperware container with what looked to be chicken parmesan inside. She popped the lid off.  It smelled delicious.

“I figured you weren’t eating a great supper,” Sandor said in explanation, scratching the back of his neck. “You said once you ate supper out of a vending machine, so…”  He indicated the dish he’d brought her.  “Thought I’d bring you an actual meal for once.”

“This smells amazing,” she said. She stepped toward him, wrapping her free arm around his waist.  “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, Little Bird,” he rasped, glancing down at Lyanna. “Even managed to get the picky one to eat it, so it must be alright.”

It was small really; just a meal for a friend when he knew she didn’t eat great at work, but Sansa was filled with gratitude. Harry never would have gone out of his way to bring her supper. 

Baelish appeared at the doorway, studying Sandor. He visibly flinched at his scars and Sansa felt a rush of anger at her boss.

“And who are you guests, Miss Stark?” He asked, stepping forward, craning his neck to look up at Sandor, who had to be close to a foot taller.

Sansa placed a hand on Lyanna’s little blonde head. “Professor Baelish, this is my daughter, Lyanna.  Lyanna, can you say hi?  This is Professor Baelish…”

“Petyr,” he corrected, smiling down at the little girl with a smile that was clearly fake. He turned to look up at Sandor again, who was all but glaring at him.  “And this large fellow?  I don’t remember any of your brothers having…being so tall.”  He smiled thinly, and it was clear, at least to Sansa, that he’d almost accidentally-on-purpose mentioned Sandor’s scars.

“I’m her neighbor,” he rasped at the same time she said, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Sansa pressed her lips together tightly, her eyes swinging to Sandor in panic, hardly believing she’d just said that.

Baelish was openly grinning now, his gaze darting between the two of them. “Interesting.  So which is it?  Boyfriend or neighbor?”  Baelish was looking at Sansa, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Both,” Sandor answered. He took a step toward Sansa and slid his arm around her waist.

Baelish blinked in confusion, his eyes studying Sansa. She smiled at him and nodded.  “He lives next door.”

“Better get going,” Sandor said, and he bent down and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, right in front of her boss, then scooped up Lyanna and was out the door.

Sansa gave Baelish another smile, then headed for the breakroom to eat her meal. It really was delicious.  He was a much better cook than she was. 

_I cannot believe I just introduced him as my boyfriend,_ she thought, feeling her cheeks flush again despite the fact that she was alone.  She hadn’t meant to do it, or rather, she hadn’t planned on introducing him that way.  She and Sandor had made no such commitment to one another.  But the title had come so easily and she found that it didn’t bother her at all to think of him like that.

_But he’s not_ , she had to remind herself.  _We haven’t even gone on a date yet. And Lyanna is probably beyond confused_.  She groaned out loud with the realization that all of that had played out in front of her daughter.  She wondered if she was somehow damaging her daughter by introducing a new man into her life so suddenly and declaring him her boyfriend. 

Upon finishing her meal, she decided she couldn’t think about that detail just yet, because it was causing her anxiety and she needed to be able to focus.

_Save that worry for later._

***

(Sandor)

Once he’d strapped Lyanna into her carseat and jumped behind the wheel, the questions started.

“You kiss mommy?” There was no accusation in the tone, just curiosity.

_Here we go._

“A little kiss,” he rumbled.

“My daddy kiss my mommy a long time ago,” she mused.

“Mm-hmm,” Sandor mumbled noncommittally, hoping she would talk herself into a different topic.

“Daddy made mommy sad though, so they don’t kiss now.”

“Right,” Sandor said, peaking at her in the rearview mirror.

“You make mommy happy?”

“I hope so,” he said. _Sure as hell going to try._

“You make me happy,” she said with certainty. “And mommy likes you.”

“I like her too” he rasped.

Lyanna nodded her head, looking out her window in contemplation. “She’s pretty.”

“She is.”

“I like you kissing mommy,” Lyanna said after a moment.

Sandor almost jerked around to look at her, but remembered he had to keep his eyes on the road. “Oh, really?  Why is that?”

“I like you. You like Mommy.  Mommy likes you.  She smiles at you.”

Sandor released a breath he didn’t know that he’d been holding. It sounded like approval to him and having Lyanna’s approval was of the utmost importance.  He didn’t know if Lyanna completely understood that her dad was no longer with her mom, but she was exceptionally intelligent for a small child, or at least it appeared so to Sandor.  _Hells, maybe they are all this smart. Not as though I’ve been around kids_.

Part of him was curious about how she felt about the blonde cunt. He wondered if she knew enough what to expect from a father that she was hurt by his actions.  Then again, Harry was all she’d known.  Sandor decided that for now, having her blessing to date Sansa would have to be enough.

_Four more days_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I LOVE the comments I get. I'm absolutely terrible at interacting with readers, I know, but 1) I'm insanely busy, and 2) I'm socially awkward (even on the internet). But I really appreciate EVERYONE that leaves a comment, even if I never reply back.
> 
> Also, my daughter's softball team came in 3rd place out of over 20 teams at the Southern Nationals Tournament, so the vacation was made extra awesome by that :) her volleyball tournaments are about to get started, so I have about 3 weeks between the end of softball and beginning of volleyball before the volleyball games start...then fall softball starts in September and it's back to juggling 2 sports *cries* But I'll try not to let it interfere too much with posting!


	19. I'm crazy about you and don't you dare argue with me about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night.

The week crept by so slowly that Sansa thought Friday would never arrive. Sandor had taken to showing up for a while during her break between school and work for hot make out sessions that left Sansa feeling breathless.  She would’ve spent the entire three or so hours with him, but Sandor was playing the responsible one.  He was aware she was trying to build up her stock for the festival, so he wouldn’t appear until a little bit before he had to pick up Lyanna and kiss the daylights out of her until they both had to leave.

And for the rest of the week, he showed up at her work during her break with supper cooked for her. She was getting seriously spoiled and she knew it.  He had asked if she wanted him to stop bringing her food, but the truth was, he was good cook and she was tired of eating out of a machine.  So she readily accepted his supper deliveries.

Sansa really wanted to broach the topic of the whole “boyfriend” ordeal from Monday night. It hadn’t appeared to bother Sandor, but Sansa was a little embarrassed that she had labeled him that without any discussion on the matter.  But she was too busy kissing him whenever she saw him, and couldn’t bring herself to create a potentially awkward atmosphere.  She wasn’t sure she was actually ready to call him her boyfriend, but then, why had she done it?  The slip had come so naturally.

Lyanna, for her part, had let her know straightaway when she had gotten home Monday night that she liked “San-more kissing mommy”, to which Sansa awkwardly said, “thanks” and then, “good”. She had thought she might need to have a more in-depth talk with Lyanna about Sandor, but Lyanna seemed fine with the whole thing.

On Wednesday night, when Sansa tucked her in, she said, “Good night, princess. I love you.”

“Do you love San-more too?” She had asked sleepily.

Sansa hadn’t known how to answer that. It was too soon for love, but she wasn’t sure how to explain it to a three year old that was too observant for her own good.  “I like him a lot,” is what she settled for.

Lyanna yawned and her eyelids fluttered shut. “I love San-more,” she murmured sleepily before drifting off.  Sansa was sure her heart was going to explode.

That night, she lay awake with Pupcake curled on her chest, her little head tucked under Sansa’s chin. A part of her wished that Sandor was with her, lying in bed, holding her.  She wasn’t even sure if that was something he would ever do, though he seemed unable to keep his hands off of her when they were alone together.  Another part of her was approaching panic mode.  She wanted to date him, she wanted to be with him in other ways too, but surely this was moving too fast, right?

She tried to remember how things had progressed with Joffrey. It hadn’t really been fast at all, but she was fifteen when she’d first started dating him, so of course they hadn’t spent much time together until she had started driving.  Plus, they were young and stupid and it was an entirely different experience than it would have been had she been grown. 

Harry had happened when she considered herself an adult, but she was still young then as well. She had been more guarded with him at first, to be sure.  But she had ended pregnant before they had been together a year.  Sansa really wasn’t sure what to consider a rushed relationship, but she had a very real fear that she was subconsciously rebounding.

_Stop it_ , she told herself.  _You like him. You_ more than _like him_.

Then Sansa began to worry that maybe she was one of those girls who just didn’t like being single. Maybe she had sought out the first guy who showed any interest and leapt at the opportunity to get some romantic attention.  She had never fancied herself as that type of girl, but then, it was also true that she had never been single for a very long time.

_Well, about seven months between Joff and Harry_ , she remembered.  But then, after all the trauma Joffrey had caused her, she wondered if maybe she should have given it a full year before dating.

Harry had actually been after her for months when she finally agreed to go out with him, so really, it was more like three months between leaving Joffrey and meeting Harry…

_None of that matters_ , she scolded herself.  _Neither of those assholes have anything to do with Sandor. **Stop freaking out**._

But when she woke the next day, the feeling was still with her that maybe her motivations weren’t as pure as she hoped they were. She didn’t trust herself and she was beginning to wonder if she was going to totally screw this up somehow.  And any screw up could potentially jeopardize Lyanna’s relationship with Sandor.

On Friday around 2:00, Sandor knocked on her door as he had all week, and a make-out session ensued. She was already wearing the outfit she planned to wear on their date and he eyed the short yellow sun dress appreciatively. 

“Where are we going tonight?” She asked him after she had pulled away from his face long enough to breathe.

“Dornish restaurant downtown. It’s market night, kind of like the festivals, just on a smaller scale, not as much entertainment.  So after we eat, we can walk around if you’d like,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Sounds nice. You sure you’re okay with what amounts to shopping?”

“As long as I’m with you, I won’t complain.”

The sweetness she had experienced with Sandor the past week was startling. She liked it, but it also threw her a bit off balance.  She was used to gruff words and short answers.  She wanted to ask him what had suddenly turned him into a giant teddy bear, but then thought that he probably wouldn’t appreciate that comparison.

That night, she rushed home from work to find that Sandor was standing outside waiting for her, clearly as ready for this as she was. He looked really good.  He was wearing dark jeans and a black button up shirt rolled up the elbows.  His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail again, seemingly unbothered that it exposed his scars.  He had taken extra care in trimming his beard.  When he met her gaze, his silver eyes lit up.

She headed toward his truck and he shook his head, giving her a wicked smirk. He led her instead to his motorcycle, where two helmets sat perched on the seat.  He lifted an eyebrow at her, asking a silent question.

“I’m in a dress,” she squeaked.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “No one will see anything.  If you really don’t want to do it, we can take the truck…”

Sansa chewed on her lip, thinking. She had actually _really_ wanted to take a spin on his motorcycle for a while now, but she’d never ridden one and she wasn’t about to ask him to give her a ride.  And sitting on the back of his motorcycle meant that she could put her arms around him and therein lay the extra motivation.

“What the hell,” she said, trying to swing her leg over in the most lady-like manner possible, sure that she was giving Sandor a free show. He put the helmet on her head, then swung his long leg over, trying to avoid kicking her in the process.

“Should’ve let me on first,” he rumbled.

Once he had his helmet on, Sansa scooted closer to him as he started the engine, wrapping her arms tight around his middle, getting a thrill at the feel of hard muscles beneath her fingers. Once they took off, Sansa found that she rather enjoyed the ride.  She was concerned her hair would be a mess, even though the helmet protected some of it from the wind, but she was glad she’d decided to try it.

When they arrived at the Dornish restaurant, he indicated she should get off first so that she could somewhat control possibly exposing herself in the dress. He hopped off after her and took her hand as he pulled her toward the restaurant. 

It was a nice place, but not so fancy that Sansa’s windblown hair would cause a scandal. She was running her fingers through it, fighting the tangles, when she caught Sandor looking at her in amusement.

“It’s a mess,” she explained as they waited for their table.

“I kind of like it,” he said, running a hand over the top of her hair, though she suspected it had less to do with smoothing it down and more to do with finding a reason to touch her.

Once they were seated and had ordered their food, Sansa finally gained the courage to bring up what had happened in front of Baelish on Monday night.

“So now that we aren’t in a rush or have little ears present, I wanted to apologize for Monday night,” Sansa said, peeking up at him nervously.

If she didn’t know Sandor, she would have thought his expression didn’t change, but because she was so familiar with him, she noted the slightly perplexed look quickly cross his features.

“For introducing you to Baelish as my boyfriend,” she clarified. “I wasn’t trying to put a label on…whatever this is.  I really just wanted him to get lost.  I’m sorry I dragged you into that.”

His brows furrowed and he stared at her a moment before she saw a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” She sighed, exasperated.  “What is so amusing?”

“That you would think that bothered me.”

Sansa grinned back at him. “So…what if I had introduced you as one of my brothers?  Or a long lost cousin?  Some old friend from the North…you have the look, you know.”

He gave her a scowl at the first suggestion. “There is no situation that I ever want to be introduced as your brother or any other family member.  And I’m from the West.”

Sansa shrugged a shoulder, enjoying her little tease. “Well, if I was going to lie to him, seems like any of those would have worked as well as saying you were my boyfriend.”  She watched him over the top of her glass as she sipped her water.

“None of those other lies would have allowed me to kiss you in front of him,” he gave back, leaning back in his chair to study her, his eyes twinkling.

“I thought you hated liars.”

“I make exceptions when it involves getting to touch you.”

“And what if…what if I didn’t want it to be a lie?” _Holy shit, that was forward!_ As soon as it left her mouth, Sansa felt her face flush.  She was supposed to be smoothing out her previous embarrassment of slapping a label on their relationship, not pushing him to define it.

He was smirking at her again. Apparently, she amused him endlessly.  She took a deep breath, then fanned her heated face, all the while barely able to meet his eyes, which were boring into her.

“Maybe it’s not a lie,” he said finally, his eyes flitting away from her finally as the waiter brought their food. “That’s up to you.”

“Oh,” she said, staring down at her food. She was a little thrown off.  As bad as she hated comparing any experience she had with Sandor to her past with Joffrey or Harry, it was all she had to go on.  Joffrey and Harry had both formally asked her to be in a relationship, but maybe that had more to do with how young both of them were. _Maybe this is how adult relationships work_.

Sandor was seemingly unconcerned as usual, tearing into the delicious-looking food on his plate and not sweating over what he’d said to her. Sansa wasn’t really sure why she was sweating it either.  She knew she wanted to be with him.  She was insanely attracted to him and he treated her better as a neighbor than she had ever been treated by her boyfriends.  And if the past week had been any indication, he was turning out to be an excellent boyfriend.  In the back of her mind, she knew one of the problems would be Catelyn.  While Catelyn didn’t necessarily _want_ Sansa with Harry, Sansa knew that she had hopes that Sansa would choose to be with someone like Harry:  ambitious, prestigious job prospects, shiny image.  The thought of the tension that would fill the room as soon as Sansa took Sandor home to her parents was too much to consider on a first date, so she pushed that thought away.

They made small talk as they finished their meal. When they walked out of the restaurant, the atmosphere on the street had changed markedly.  Tables and booths were set up along the sidewalks near the road out of the way of the businesses.  The street had been shut down completely for several blocks a road up from where Sandor’s motorcycle was parked and people were filling the streets. 

Vendors of all kinds were present for the market. Sansa was blown away by how many people had turned out for it.  She had thought that maybe the turn out for the festival would be something like this, but Sandor had said this was smaller scale.  It didn’t seem small.  There were booths selling funnel cakes and cotton candy.  A clown stood on a corner making balloon animals for a group of children.  Artists, wood carvers, jewelry makers, and photographers were lined along the sidewalk at their tables.

She turned to him, a smile creeping its way onto her lips. “Exactly how big is the festival?”

He shrugged. “Not much different from market night really except there’s always live music on the streets, belly dancers, gymnasts…those kinds of entertainers are saved for the festivals.  Everyone turns up at those.  Barely enough room to walk in those crowds.”

Sansa loved it. It seemed like the whole town had turned up for market night, but according to Sandor, the festival would be a much bigger affair, drawing people from the surrounding towns and even King’s Landing.  Sansa moved from booth to booth excitedly, studying the hand-crafted jewelry and the homemade sweets on display.

Sandor bought them both a funnel cake and they devoured them, licking at their powdery fingers after it was gone. At some point as they weaved through the crowd, he took her hand, lacing his long fingers through hers.  If he was uncomfortable with the crowd or the looks that may have been directed at his scars or height or general hugeness, he didn’t show it.  For her part, Sansa felt like a young girl again.  There was no keeping a smile off her face as she teased him about his weakness for the sweets on display and he teased her back she studied the handmade crafts in fascination.

“Guess you’ll be on the other end of this next month, huh?” Sandor asked as they found an unoccupied bench to sit down and rest.

“I hope so,” Sansa said, sipping at her frozen lemonade. “I’m nervous that I either won’t have any customers or not enough stock.  It would be nice to make enough money to leave Baelish’s office and just sew full-time.”

Sandor gave her a curious look. “Not liking your job?”

“He creeps me out,” she admitted. “Plus, I hate being stuck in an office.  I always wanted to open up my own boutique, but Harry thought it was ridiculous.”

Sandor huffed in frustration. “It’s okay for the golden boy to have lofty goals, but you can’t?  Sounds like bullshit to me.”

Sansa scooted over, wrapping her hand around his massive bicep and leaning her head on his shoulder. “You know, you’re right.  It _is_ bullshit.  Maybe I’ll give it a go.  Besides, this town seems pretty friendly towards small businesses.”

“Might be that you’re successful enough to buy your own cabin on the God’s Eye,” he smirked down at her when her eyes widened. “Think I didn’t notice how you lit up when I told you about my cabin?  Guess I’ll have to arrange a trip for you sometime.”

She beamed at him. “By arranging me a trip, I hope you mean _with you_.”

A short, deep rumble of a laugh escaped his chest. “So anxious to get me alone, Little Bird?”

Sansa gave him her most innocent look and smiled sweetly. “A lady doesn’t want to be stranded in the wilderness by herself.  Hopefully you won’t change your mind about letting me into your man cave.”

“Man cave, huh?”

“Well, if it’s just been you and Stranger there, I think it qualifies.”

The distinct sound of horses’ hooves clapping against pavement drew Sansa’s attention and she sat up to get a better look. An open carriage drawn by two horses was making its way along the busy street.  Sansa immediately jumped up.

“They have carriage rides?” She asked excitedly, tugging on Sandor’s hand.

He looked bewildered as he looked from her to the carriage. “Yes?  What of it?”

“Oh, please, I _love_ carriage rides.  I used to go on them all the time when I lived up North, only sometimes it was a horse-drawn sleigh when the ground was covered in snow…”

“Like in _Jingle Bells_?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course.  Now come on, _please_.  They’re so romantic.”

Sandor looked dubious about the whole thing, but relented and let Sansa tug him along behind her through the crowd. Thankfully, there wasn’t a line for the ride and when the previous occupants had vacated the seats, Sansa went to her wallet to pay for the ride.  Sandor grasped her hand and pulled it back.

He handed the driver a bill and gave her a stern look. “You aren’t paying on our first date,” he growled.

“Well, it was my idea. I just thought I should pay since you don’t seem so enthused…”

“Stop chirping and get in the damn carriage,” he muttered in exasperation, but he took her elbow to steady her as she climbed in.

Once they had settled in, Sandor wrapped his arm around her shoulder and, despite the fact that it was still quite warm outside, she snuggled into his side. Apparently, the carriage ride was a historic one, with the driver chatting on about the history of the town, how long certain buildings had been standing, and what Rosby was famous for, which was really not much other than the festivals.

Occasionally, Sansa tuned in to listen to some of the more interesting facts, but mostly, she just enjoyed rolling through the lovely little town cuddled up to Sandor.

_He’s definitely my boyfriend_ , she thought proudly as she looked up at him.  She was sitting on his left side and took a moment to study the scars. _They aren’t so bad_.  They had never truly bothered her.  Mostly, she had always felt sadness for him, knowing how much it must have hurt him.  Feeling her eyes on him, he looked down at her, and a shadow seemed to pass through his eyes as he realized she was studying his scars.  He made to look away, but she caught his chin and stopped him.

“You’re really handsome,” she said, wondering if it was the wrong thing to say; but she wasn’t lying. Even now, sitting in a carriage, rolling through a downtown area full of people, her attraction to him was overwhelming.  His eyes hardened and she realized that he either thought she was mocking him or was telling him some sweet lie.  He made to pull away again, but she slid her other hand up to the ruined cheek, her fingers dancing along the twisted tissue. 

“Don’t do that,” he rasped, and though his voice sounded rough, his eyes were pleading. “Don’t act like this doesn’t matter or that you can’t see it.”

Sansa shook her head. “I won’t.  I wouldn’t.  I see it.  I’ve always seen it.  But I don’t care.  It _doesn’t_ matter.  It doesn’t change how I see you or how I feel about you.”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard and looked away from her, though he didn’t attempt to turn his head. “I don’t need pretty lies, Sansa.”

For once, he wasn’t mocking her in their disagreement. Instead, his words were smothered in desperation.  He didn’t want pity or lies or make-believe.  Sansa understood that.  If only she could make him understand that she understood it.

“A hound can smell a lie, am I right?” She asked, her voice taking on a sterner tone.  “If so, then where is the lie?  Look at me and tell me that I’m lying to you.  Tell me that I’m not attracted to you.  Tell me that those scars matter to me.  Tell me that you think I’ll let scars get in the way of what I feel.  Go on, try it,” her voice rose as she continued to talk and she noticed that the carriage driver had gone quiet.  She lowered her voice again, “Because if you have the nerve to tell me any of those things, then you’re breaking your own rule about lying.”

His eyes found hers again and he sat there studying her a minute, wearing a look that told her he was being cautious, that he still wasn’t sure if he should believe her. She never broke the stare.  He wouldn’t find any lie in her eyes and she gave him a daring look as they sat there in silence.

Finally, _finally_ , he took a deep breath, and shook his head.  “This isn’t real life,” he mumbled, placing right hand over her left one, turning into it so he pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Oh, yes it is,” Sansa said. “And you may as well get used to it.  I’m crazy about you and don’t you dare argue with me about it.”

Sandor nodded, but didn’t say anything as he looked down at her. The light of the setting sun cast the unburnt side of his face in an orange light.  It made his dark eyelashes glisten and his grey eyes appear more silver than ever. _So handsome, whether he believes it or not_ , Sansa thought.  Unable to stop herself, she pulled his face down, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.

To her surprise, he returned the kiss. It didn’t seem to matter that the carriage driver was speaking to them, letting them know the ride was ending.  When the carriage rolled to a stop, they didn’t move for a moment.

“Ready to get out of here?” He whispered against her lips. 

She nodded and let him pull her off the bench. He held her hand as she climbed out of the carriage.  Sansa kept her hand in his as they pushed back through the crowd, headed toward his motorcycle.  She was anxious to get back on his bike and wrap her arms around him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in disbelief that this little story has 500 kudos. Like, mind blown. 
> 
> So glad people like it!
> 
> Also...ermm...rating is going to change next chapter. Just a heads up.


	20. You're all I've ever wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the content of the chapter warrants a mature rating :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I'm nervous to post this. Not so nervous that I would've cut the scene (and there is more of this to come), but nervous enough that I want to hit post and then run and hide.

It took longer than Sansa realized for Sandor to navigate his motorcycle out of the heavy traffic created by market night. She sat behind him, her arms wrapped snugly around his waist, the feel of his sculpted chest and stomach beneath her fingers doing things to her body.  It had finally gotten dark outside, and Sansa knew she would have to pick up Lyanna sometime tonight because Arya had an early morning and couldn’t deal with a sleepy toddler.  But Arya had told her she was good until midnight, so when they rolled into Sandor’s driveway, she asked if he wanted to come in for a while and watch a movie.  He agreed and so they settled in Sansa’s family room and put on a movie, but there was more talking than watching.  Talking about cute things Lyanna had done that week, talking about Petyr creeping Sansa out, talking about that trip to the God’s Eye Sandor had promised her…

“You don’t know how excited I am to see that man cave,” Sansa told him, grinning at him as she peaked at him from the corner of her eye.

“It’s not really a man cave. I’m not going to adopt a ‘No Girls Allowed’ rule.”

“Seems like a good place to woo women,” Sansa said, trying not to think about whether or not he had wooed any other women at his cabin.

Sandor rolled his eyes at her. “Haven’t taken anyone up there in ages.  Except Stranger.  Not exactly a romantic weekend.”

She turned her head to watch him, her full attention on him, “Is that what you’re planning, then? A romantic weekend?”  She felt a bit triumphant, like she had him cornered and now he’d have to definitively tell her his intentions.

His eyes slid to her and there was a softness there that she wasn’t entirely used to, but was certainly becoming more familiar with. She watched as he lifted his left arm and dropped it loosely around her shoulder.  She took the initiative to scoot a little closer to him, looking up at his face as he tried to decide how to answer; completely unbothered that she was closest to his scarred side.

“And if I said yes?” The fingers on his left hand slid over the exposed skin of her shoulder and she found herself wishing he’d slide the thin strap down her arm.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Then yes,” he answered. “Maybe I’m planning a romantic weekend.”  He dropped his face down close to hers to the point she could scarcely see anything except those smoke colored eyes.  “Maybe I’ve been trying to figure out how to get you alone for more than a few hours at a time and make it worth it.”

She swallowed hard as she felt her heart rate pick up, fighting to keep her eyes on his even as they flickered down to his mouth. She had kissed him more times than she could count, just in the span of a few days, but she found it did nothing to slake her desire to kiss him again.  And again.  As she was contemplating whether or not she should go ahead and take what she wanted, Sandor made that decision for her.

He leaned down and seemed to snatch her lips with his own, as if afraid she would run away if he gave her time to think about it. The press of his lips was hard and insistent against her own, but Sansa liked it.  She opened her mouth beneath his, deepening the kiss, trying her damnedest to get closer to him.

And _by the Seven_ , he had the most amazing lips she’d ever felt.  It seemed she would never get used to this, never tire of it.  Sansa’s hand shot up to his good cheek, tracing a line with her thumb just under his eye and she felt a tremor run through him.  She wondered if anyone had ever touched this wonderful man with tenderness.  His other arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her into his lap with her legs draped sideways over his as he continued to kiss her.

Her tongue darted out of its own accord, Sansa not having the wherewithal to have considered what she was doing. She traced his lips with her tongue, tasting the wine they’d had with their dinner.  Tentatively, she pushed into his mouth, brushing her tongue against his.  She felt immediate electricity in the touch, starting with the stroke of their tongues, running throughout her body.  It sent shivers down her spine and goosebumps exploded on her arms.  She moaned into his mouth, attempting to pull closer to him.

He held her to him securely, his left hand was at her waist, and with his right he drew patterns on the bare skin of her left leg, draped across his lap. Sansa found it hard to focus.  So many different feelings were warring within her for dominance.  His lips, his tongue, his arm around her waist, his arousal poking into her leg, his fingers running between her thighs, and all of those struggled to keep her attention next to what she was feeling inside.  Her heart was thumping against her ribs, filling up with an emotion she didn’t want to examine too closely.  She felt a sweet ache in her stomach, between her legs, where she was desperate for him to touch her.

As if he could read her mind, those gentle fingers crept up the inside of her thigh so slowly that she could have died from anticipation. He stopped when he was barely touching the cotton of her panties and she gasped into his mouth, and he in turn drew in a sharp intake of breath, likely at finding the wetness there.

He was still for a few moments as they lazily kissed one another, Sansa wanting him to touch her more, and Sandor seemingly waiting for her to stop him. In some kind of wanton desperation, Sansa edged closer to his fingers, leaving no doubt of what she wanted, a breathy little whimper escaping from her lips into his mouth.

Finally, _finally_ , he obliged, pushing the wet cotton away and running his fingers up and down her slit, making her moan unabashedly.

“ _Gods_ ,” he rasped, “you’re so wet.”  He said it in wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Before Sansa could compose herself enough to reply, he had dipped one long finger into her heat, hissing with pleasure. Sansa found that her breaths were becoming more labored, and she clung to his neck, kissing him desperately without any kind of rhythm, wanting to touch him in every way she possibly could all at the same time.

A second finger followed the first and she keened loudly as he curled them up inside her, almost as though he were beckoning her with those two fingers. “ _Oh, oh,_ ” she gasped, nibbling at his bottom lip, grinding her hips against his hand.

“ _Sansa_ ,” he growled in her ear and she was sure that she’d never heard her name sound quite so sexy.

His thumb snuck up between her folds, pressing against her oversensitive nub, and she pulled away from his face, throwing her head back to release a loud moan. Fleetingly, she remembered doing something similar with Harry the one time he’d managed to accidentally find her clit, and he’d told her to quiet down.

Thoughts of Harry faded quickly though, because Sandor seemed to like it when she made noise, giving little groans of approval when she did so. His thumb was making lazy circles against her now and Sansa could barely cling to a coherent thought.  The touches alternated between barely-there caresses and delicious pressure.  Her left hand found his right, her fingers encircling his wrist as he rubbed her inside and out, driving her very nearly crazy with pleasure.

He shifted her, pulling her further into his lap, and she adjusted until she was facing him, her knees bracketing his legs as he continued to work her over. His left hand now free, he yanked at the straps of her sun dress, tugging it down, exposing her right breast.  Before she could even get excited about it, his mouth was closing around her nipple, sucking on it hard before releasing it to gently lick the hard pebble he’d created.

Her hands went into his hair, pulling him closer to her chest, and she cried out when she felt the graze of his teeth and she was gone, gone, gone with how good it felt. She wanted to tell him _harder_ , and she wanted to say _bite_ , but all she could manage was those small, needy sounds that he continued to draw out of her.

And then it was all too much. The fingers that curled inside her, his thumb rubbing furious circles against her nub, and the sweet pain of his mouth on her breast…and then she was rising in a quick climb before she fell back down, her body clenching, going still as pleasure ripped through her, only to be released from the high as she came down, crying out his name, finding his mouth with hers once again.

He tried to kiss her slowly, but Sansa wasn’t having it. Despite the exertion she’d just experienced, she wasn’t done with him.  Not hardly.  She kissed him harder, trying to convey to him that she wanted more, wanted _him_.  She fought with the buckles of his belt, pulling furiously, relieved when he finally showed mercy enough to help her.

“Sansa,” he rumbled. But she was past listening to him talk.  She pulled the button of his jeans loose and pulled down the zipper.  “ _Little Bird_ ,” he said a bit louder.

She looked up at him, his eyes dark with desire, and couldn’t help the grin that pulled at her mouth.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

“I want to. I want _you_ ,” she said, taking his face in her hands.  “If you want me.”

His hands gripped her hips then, pulling her towards him, pressing himself between her legs so deliciously.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he told her, and Sansa wanted to believe him.

They struggled for a moment to get his pants and underwear out of the way. He fished a condom out of his pocket and she watched as he rolled it down his length, briefly wondering if he was actually going to fit.

Whatever trepidation she may have had regarding his size flew from her mind when he kissed her again. There were no thoughts, only feelings.  The feel of his mouth, the feel of his hands, the feel of him pressing against her center, and the butterfly feelings he was giving her…

If she had been worried that it would hurt, it was all for naught. She was so wet that he slid in without any difficulty, stretching her to accommodate him, bottoming out inside her with a muffled groan, his head falling against her chest.

Her hands went to his hair again, pulling at the long, dark strands, running it through her fingers as she began to move, pushing up and down with her knees. It was exquisite with every slow lift and sink.  Sansa was sure that there was nothing that had ever felt more right than this thing between them, whatever it was.

His mouth went to her breast again, then after a few moments, he shoved down the other side of her dress to give the other breast some attention as well.

“Oh, gods,” she gasped. “This is how you get me to do whatever you want.”

She both heard and felt his deep rumble of laughter, the vibrations doing wondrous things for the breast he was currently nipping at.

He settled his hands under the skirt of her dress, his hands placed firmly on her hip bones, and then began to _pull_ her toward him, sliding her along his length, hitting a completely new spot inside her that she hadn’t even known existed.  As he slid her back and forth, he was meeting her in the middle, driving into her with sharp, sudden jerks that made her see stars.  His right hand slid from her hip, his thumb finding her oversensitive nub, then began to rub her in time to his thrusts.

Sansa may as well have been useless. She couldn’t keep up with what he was doing to her body, so she just held onto his hair, pulling to the point that it must have been painful, but Sandor showed no signs that it bothered him.  She felt her climax building again, could hardly breathe for the heights in which he took her.  The slide became more of a jerk as he chased his own pleasure and Sansa’s head fell back again as she felt her body tense around him.  He lifted her then, pounding into her relentlessly and without much rhythm as Sansa rode out the waves of her climax.  Abruptly Sandor tensed, mumbling a string of curses as he let go, his body trembling beneath her.

She lifted herself away from him and collapsed onto his chest, burying her head in his neck as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I had hoped to have you on a bed, completely naked, rather than straddling me half-clothed,” he told her a bit breathlessly.

She ran her nose along his jawline to his ear, whispering, “Are you complaining, sir?”

“Seven hells, no,” he nipped at her lips. “I’d just hoped I could make it more…ah…”

“Romantic?” Sansa giggled.

“Something like that,” he grumbled, trailing kisses from her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

“I wouldn’t change a thing,” she told him, fingers running through his disheveled hair. “We have plenty of time for more romantic endeavors.  I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until…well, right before it happened.”

“This was not the plan,” he told her, pulling away to look in her eyes.

Her hand swept down his good cheek. “Do you regret it?”

“Fuck no. Do you?”

“Absolutely not,” she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out when it can happen again.”

He barked out a laugh and pulled back to look at her. “As much as I’d like to do that all night, we need to get Lyanna.”

Sansa nodded. “You’re right.  Arya has to be at work tomorrow morning.  You going with me to get her?”

“Of course,” Sandor said, helping her as she stood from his lap. He found her panties tucked into a couch cushion and held them out to her.  “I’m sure my bro has questions about the date.”

“She’s probably still mad that she didn’t get to go,” Sansa said, fussing with her hair in the decorative mirror hanging on her wall.

Sandor got his pants back on and the two of them made their way to his truck. After they’d pulled out of the driveway, Sandor reached across the middle console and took her hand away from her lap, tugging it to the console between them and interlacing their fingers.  Unable to stop the surge of affection she felt for him, she lifted their hands, bringing his to her mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.  He didn’t look at her, but she could tell her didn’t mind the affection; he rubbed the pad of his thumb along hers all the way to Arya’s house.

Lyanna, surprisingly, was wide awake when they arrived, even though it was nearly 11 o’clock. Arya, who was normally a night owl, looked outright exhausted, and Gendry was sprawled on the couch, his hands thrown over his face as he snored softly.

“Does this kid ever sleep?” Arya muttered as she gathered Lyanna’s things.

“Normally, she’s in bed by about 8:30, sometimes 9:00,” Sansa shrugged. “Guess you were just too exciting for her.”

Arya rolled her eyes and ran her rans through her hair, recently dyed bubble gum pink. “She’s worn me out.  Gendry gave up about an hour ago.”  Arya’s eyes focused on a spot behind Sansa that she knew was her boyfriend.  “So, how did it go?”

“Yessss, mommy! San-more!  Was it fun?”  Lyanna chimed in, running up and tackling Arya around the knees.

“It was a lot of fun,” Sansa said, leaning down to scoop Lyanna into her arms. Lyanna attached herself to Sansa’s neck and buried her face in her hair.

“I go too?” Lyanna asked.

“You can go with us sometimes, you know that,” Sansa told her.

Arya was looking at her expectantly, clearly wanting more details, but Sandor just took Lyanna’s backpack from her and said, “We should be going. It’s late.”

Arya rolled her eyes and shot Sansa a look that said that the conversation wasn’t finished, then walked them out.

Lyanna fell asleep in the truck, so she missed the handholding on the way back. Sandor lifted her from her carseat and carried her inside.  Already in her pajamas, he tucked the little girl into her bed.  Sansa watched him lean down and brush a kiss to her hair, and if she hadn’t already felt things for her, that softness he only showed to her and Lyanna was the tipping point.

She stepped in front of him outside Lyanna’s room and captured his lips with a slow, heated kiss. She felt the ache between her legs that appeared so readily in his presence.  And though she knew she wanted him inside her again, she also wanted him in other ways, ways in which she couldn’t put her finger on.  She wanted him to come to bed with her, but stay all night.  She wanted to wake up beside him the next morning.  She wanted those slow easy kisses that they’d shared all week, as well as the hurried, passionate kisses. 

Standing in his arms in her hallway as he thoroughly kissed her, she felt a lightness in her limbs, and in her head, and in her heart. A spark of fear shot through her and she pulled away abruptly and blurted out, “Stay with me tonight?”

He took a step away from her, touching his fingers to his mouth. He shook his head.  “Probably not a good idea, Little Bird.  Not yet.  This is still new.”  He looked over his shoulder into the darkness of Lyanna’s room.  “I don’t want to rush any of this.”

Though Sansa felt a twinge of regret, she nodded and followed him to the door. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and he was on his way.

How had she gotten so attached so fast? She missed him even as she watched him walk the fifty or so feet that separated her door from his.  She knew she’d see him in a matter of hours, he’d already said he planned to spend Saturday with her and Lyanna, but damn it, _she missed him_.

Sansa fell into bed a few moments later, but sleep didn’t find her for some time. Her mind was too full of memories she’d made earlier this evening, how he’d kissed her, how good he’d made her feel, and full too of fantasies of him in her bed, making love to her, or just holding her, or whispering things to her that she didn’t dare dwell on.

 _It’s too soon for all that_ , she thought sleepily as she finally drifted off.


	21. She's turned me into a useless, stupid mess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts from our favs on their developing relationship. Not much action, tbh. This is definitely just a transition chapter.

(Sandor)

_I must be fucking dreaming still_.

Sandor stood in front of his bathroom mirror, studying the face that usually put him in a bad mood. The scars were still there.  He was still just as ugly as he had been the day before.  Half his face was still a melted mess of scar tissue.  And yet…

He was in a really fucking good mood. He couldn’t even bring himself to scowl at his horrid reflection.  He had woken up early and showered and was now standing at the mirror in nothing but a towel trying to get a grip on reality.

_How is this real life?_

He could still remember the feel of her silky skin under his rough hands, her tight, wet warmth enveloping him, the taste of salt on her skin, the smell of her hair.

_She’s turned me into a useless, stupid mess_ , he thought happily.  Because honestly, he didn’t think anyone would ever affect him the way she had.  He had never thought anyone could hold that kind of power over him and him be _happy_ about it.  It was the strangest feeling ever.

Any woman who could make him look in the mirror and not care about what a monster he looked like was something else. He wanted to spend all day with her and Lyanna, but he figured he needed to pace himself lest she get tired of him.  He hoped his little bro was still okay with them dating.  He had no desire to do anything that would confuse or hurt Lyanna.  He also found himself wondering about Sansa’s family and how much they would balk at the idea of Sansa dating him.

He didn’t really give a shit what most people thought of him, but he didn’t want that Catelyn witch to give Sansa a hard time. He had a sneaking feeling that Sansa wasn’t going to immediately divulge their relationship and he was okay with that.  What mattered to him was that Sandor finally felt like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.  She was his.  Maybe they were just one date in, but he could feel it with a confidence that was foreign to him.  Normally, when things seemed positive in past relationships, his insecurities would creep in pretty quickly.  But he didn’t feel insecure at all.  He felt happy and he marveled at the feeling.  He was surprised he could even recognize it.

Later in the day when his phone went off and it was a message from Sansa politely asking when he would come over, he couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

_I think this is what they call being ‘whipped’._

***

(Sansa)

Sansa woke up with a smile on her face, feeling for the first time in a long time that maybe something was going right in her love life. _Not **love** life,_ she scolded herself, wondering why people called it that, why that word was applied to any semi-romantic relationship.  She could hear Pupcake’s toenails clacking on the wood floor, followed by the smack of toddler feet.  She rose from her bed, stretching, delighting in the little ache Sandor had left between her legs.

She pushed those thoughts aside as she went to meet Lyanna in the kitchen. The toddler was struggling to open the refrigerator.

“Hi, mommy,” she said without looking away from the door she was tugging on.

“Need help, princess?” Sansa shooed her out of the way and opened the door.  Lyanna promptly pointed to the milk. 

“Strawberry,” she said.

Sansa mixed the strawberry syrup with her milk and then popped a couple of waffles in the toaster as Lyanna scrambled into her seat at the dining room table. Sansa found her mind wandering, thinking of how she should deliver the news about her and Sandor to her mother.  When Sansa was young, Catelyn had always been the person Sansa confided in, while Arya was the kid who kept the secrets.

She had told her mother about every boy she had ever liked, about getting into fights with her friends, about some mean girl picking on her at school… in fact she had been pretty open and honest with her mother until she had started dating Joffrey. After Joffrey had begun hitting her, she was too ashamed to admit what was going on, and Sansa felt her relationship with her mother had changed after that.

It wasn’t even Catelyn’s fault, but _Sansa’s_.  Sansa had tried to make her life appear perfect.  Sansa had put on the mask and buried the pain and her mother was none the wiser.  After Sansa had recovered from her brush with death, Catelyn had been bitter.  Her mother had repeatedly asked her why she had hidden Joffrey’s abusive tendencies.  She had wanted to know why Sansa hadn’t been honest about what was going on and had taken it as a personal insult that Sansa had hidden it.

When Sansa had started dating Harry, she had decided to try to make up for shutting her mother out. She told Catelyn everything about Harry, the good and the bad.  She told her mother when he did something sweet.  She told her when they fought about dumb stuff.  When Harry had cheated on her that first time, she confessed to that too, despite the shame she felt.

Her openness about her relationship seemed to heal the rift caused by Joffrey. Catelyn was infuriated that Harry would betray Sansa, but at the same time, it seemed as though Catelyn had the same fear that Sansa did:  maybe Harry was the best she could do.

Apparently, Catelyn did not share Sandor’s view that she shouldn’t settle. Catelyn had never been single in her adult life.  Sansa hadn’t spent much time single either.  In fact, Catelyn was constantly fussing at the older boys about settling down as well.  Robb had been in so many relationships that seemed to be serious that Sansa wondered if it was because of the pressure Catelyn put them all under to settle down.  Jon quietly ignored that advice.  He was a loner and because his relationship with Catelyn had always been strained, Sansa felt like he was the least affected by her disappointment.

Even Bran and Rickon were beginning to get the speeches on finding a nice girl. Bran, who had never seemed romantically interested in anyone, was getting lectures on how he should find him a sweet little girlfriend while he was away at college so he wouldn’t be so lonely.  Sansa wasn’t even sure he liked girls.

Rickon, on the other hand, liked girls a bit too much. He had a new girlfriend every week it seemed like and this annoyed Catelyn as much as Bran’s and Jon’s persistent single status.  Arya, for her part, had been with Gendry for longer than Sansa had been aware of, likely keeping it a secret to keep Catelyn from harassing her.  Catelyn didn’t approve of Gendry and Sansa knew she wouldn’t approve of Sandor either.  She had already made it known that she didn’t even like him living next door to Sansa, so she’d probably pass out cold if she knew they were dating.

_Best not go there yet_ , Sansa resolved, sipping her coffee as she watched Lyanna devour blueberry waffles.  She would tell Arya.  She may even tell her brothers when she saw them at her parents’ upcoming anniversary party.  But she wanted to enjoy Sandor on her own a bit longer before she made her mother’s head explode with her revelation.

She and Lyanna passed the morning watching movies, playing outside with Pupcake, and coloring in the books Robb had bought her. Around lunchtime, she finally sent Sandor a text, hoping she didn’t seem too eager about seeing him.

He was at her door in less than a minute, his lips tugging into a crooked smirk as she let him. Lyanna flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs, yelling, “San-more!”

“Hey, Little little bird,” he said, scooping her off the floor. “Ready to hang out?”

Lyanna nodded enthusiastically and as they chattered about their plans for the day, Sansa couldn’t help but watch them. Never in a million years did she think that Sandor Clegane and her daughter would be best friends, but there they were, thick as thieves, calling each other bro.  It was as though Lyanna had known Sandor all her life; similarly, he showed a level of comfort with Sansa’s daughter that she was sure she’d never seen in him before. 

Sansa had plenty of her own affection for him, but even if she hadn’t, she would’ve still been awed at the connection Sandor had with Lyanna. Not for the first time, she found herself thinking he’d be a good dad. _A great dad_.  He may have had a reputation as a big, scary, mean bodyguard, but he was little more than an overgrown puppy with her kid. 

_Too bad Harry is her dad instead of Sandor_.

As soon as she had finished the thought, she felt incredibly guilty. She had no right to those thoughts.  Harry was not the ideal father, but he hadn’t been _completely_ absent.  And Sandor had given her no definitive indication that he actually wanted to be a father.  All of Sansa’s thoughts on the matter were based on how he interacted with Lyanna, but maybe he was so good with her only because he could escape when he wanted. _That doesn’t sound like him_.

Sansa knew she worried too much and tended to overthink things, so she decided to let it go and enjoy their day together.

The following few weeks could only be described as blissful. Sansa still stressed about her money situation, she still hated going into work to face Baelish, she was working on her sewing projects until she was cross-eyed in preparation for the festival, and not seeing Sandor nearly as much as she wanted to…but when she did see him, she felt light, and happy, and like all those stressful things in her life didn’t stand a chance against how he made her feel.

There wasn’t a lot of alone time since Lyanna was usually around, but the two of them were taking advantage of their free time during the day. Sandor wouldn’t show up until about an hour before she went to work, knowing that she was busy with her sewing, but the hour was definitely worth it.

On days that he didn’t go into work at the bar, he would have supper with them, usually something that he had cooked, then he would help Sansa clean up and get Lyanna ready for bed. On nights he wasn’t there to tuck her in, Lyanna would pout.

He hadn’t spent the night and Sansa didn’t really want to bring it up either. Though she longed to fall asleep in his arms, she wasn’t sure if it was something she should get in the habit of.  Arya had told her that if it seemed like the real thing, then she didn’t see the problem in him staying overnight, but Sansa knew her mother wouldn’t approve.  And it was still _so soon_ after Harry.

She had no desire to set an example for Lyanna by moving fast with Sandor. If it didn’t work out after Sansa had brought Sandor into their home, Lyanna would be crushed.  So they didn’t mention it.  There were stolen kisses in the hallway outside Lyanna’s room and steamy afternoon lovemaking that left Sansa wanting more.  Not just more sex, but more of _all_ of him.

_Don’t move too fast_ , she kept reminding herself, though she felt at times it wasn’t fast enough.

As summer faded into early fall, Sansa felt she was ready for her first Rosby festival. It was going to be a busy weekend.  The festival was Friday night and Saturday was Ned and Catelyn’s anniversary party.  She had mentioned it to Sandor, but thankfully he seemed to understand that she wasn’t quite ready to take him around her mother again. 

Harry hadn’t tried to contact her since the day after Lyanna’s birthday party. She had conflicting emotions about that.  On one hand, Lyanna didn’t seem to be hurting without Harry.  She seemed perfectly content and Sansa was happy that she didn’t have to deal with him.  But on the other hand, Sansa had a very real fear that Lyanna took after her and was perhaps acting like she was okay when she really wasn’t.  But she was three years old, and as emotionally unstable as toddlers could be, Sansa was sure that Lyanna wouldn’t be able to cover up any damage Harry had done. 

The night of the festival came and Sansa found that she was nervous as she set up her display table. Lyanna had been picked up earlier by Ned and was spending the night with Pappy and Grams, so Sansa didn’t have to worry about keeping up with a rambunctious toddler on a crowded sidewalk.  She had rented a spot outside a café near Sandor’s bar and grill.  She felt better knowing he was so close and she knew he’d be checking on her.  She chatted with the vendors on either side of her.  One was an artist with several displays set up of scenery he had painted inspired by the Crownlands.  The other was a jewelry maker, one whose work she’d admired at market night.  They made small talk about the festival, both vendors indicating that there was good money to be made for good products.  Sansa’s nerves began to subside as a steady stream of people began to trickle toward her table.

For the first hour or so, people were mainly browsing, sifting through the little handmade outfits and moving along, but as the crowd grew thicker, business picked up considerably. Sansa smiled and talked about her work with other young mothers who enjoyed dressing their daughters in unique clothes.  She got so busy that she didn’t even notice that the sun had gone down and the street lights had flicked on. 

Sandor brought her some food from the bar when she was finally able to sit down. Arya had come by and had taken over helping the customers while she ate, though Sansa noted that Arya looked a little overwhelmed by all the questions about the fabrics and the prints.

“Not nice to stick your sister with that,” Sandor teased.

“It’s a learning experience,” she said, tearing her grilled cheese in half and nibbling at the center.

“Think she’s out of her element.”

“That’s an understatement. I have to admit though, I enjoy watching her squirm,” she said as she watched Arya blanch a bit when a lady asked if they had any more pink dresses with white chevron print.  Arya meekly held up an outfit with a houndstooth pattern and Sansa snickered before pointing towards the desired dress.

“Looking forward to the party tomorrow?” Sandor asked, quirking an eyebrow at her, likely knowing that she was a little nervous to see her mom.  She hadn’t really talked to her since Lyanna’s birthday party, other than a few conversations about Lyanna.

Sansa shrugged. “There’s always good food and great wine.  It’ll be okay.”

She heard Arya snort and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. _No more drama_ , she promised herself firmly, hoping that everyone else had the same goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend on waiting a week between my last update and now, but life has been hectic. One of my Boxers was just diagnosed with Immune-Mediated Hemolytic Anemia. From what I've read, it sounds like an autoimmune disease. He's not doing great at all and had to have a blood transfusion. I took my other Boxer to the vet so she could be the donor and found out she has heartworms. Apparently we missed a monthly treatment at some point, didn't realize it, and now I have 2 sick puppies. So. Sorry to go off on a tangent, but if I start slacking off, y'all know why. Tyson was still able to get the blood transfusion, but now we have to wait 2 months before we can start treatment on Laila (not sure why, that's what the vet said). 
> 
> Plus, my oldest kid is back to playing 2 sports. My youngest is fighting me on potty training. AND my brother-in-law just broke up with his girlfriend and has moved in with us...
> 
> I may start drinking soon. But I'll try not to get too behind on updates for this story!


	22. Why does everything that comes out of her mouth make me mad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anniversary party! No Sandor in this chapter, sorry! :( But enough drama to go around for everybody.

The following night, Sansa and Arya rode together to their parents’ house in King’s Landing. It wasn’t as grand as Winterfell and it was in a neighborhood that Arya said made her feel “claustrophobic” due to the houses being so close together, but it was still large and lavish. 

Cars were parked all along the circular driveway, careful of the signs saying “Please keep off grass”. Last spring their mother had ordered new sod to be laid and didn’t want anyone messing up her carefully manicured lawn.

Arya grumbled, “Can’t really be fussy about the lawn when you decide to throw a party at your house and invite fifty people.”

The weather had cooled off considerably and Arya wore a grey sweater that was so big it nearly touched her knees, with holy jeans. Her worn brown combat boots adorned her feet and she had recently dyed her entire head of hair a vivid blue.  Sansa had chosen to wear a three-quarter sleeve sheath dress that ended at her knees with a small slit on the left side.  She had worn her bright red pumps to give the outfit some color.  Red shoes were the only red she could usually get away with so as not to clash with her hair, so she jumped at any excuse she had to wear them.

The girls entered through the garage door and slipped into the kitchen, where Jon appeared to be hiding out, popping a lid off his beer bottle. Arya promptly walked over and snatched it from his fingers and took a swig.  Her favorite brother gave her a long-suffering look before reaching into the refrigerator for another bottle.

Sansa grinned at the pair of them and leaned against the kitchen island as she watched them nurse their bottles.

“Is it really necessary to drown yourself in alcohol this early in the evening?” Sansa asked them.

They gave her matching looks, dark grey eyes seeming to say _are you shitting me right now_ , then exchanged a look with one another.

“Surprised you aren’t joining us,” Jon told her, giving her a pointed look. “I’m sorry about how all that went down at Lya’s party.  Thought she was above that.”

“Please,” Arya said. “Sansa gave her a perfect opportunity to ridicule one of her children.  You think she’d pass that up?”

“Arya,” Sansa said wearily, “It’s their anniversary. Let’s all just try to be nice.”

Jon finished the rest of his beer. “I’m going to need something stronger.  You’re late,” he told his sisters.  “Earlier she was grilling me about what I’m going to do with my life once I’ve finished chasing my shrink fantasy.”

Jon had degrees in criminal justice and psychology. He had chosen to become a counselor at a prison and was considering pursuing a doctorate.  Catelyn thought he was wasting his life on a career that didn’t pay that much.  She thought he should go to law school, become a judge, or maybe even a politician.  Sansa imagined Jon had heard more of the same before she and Arya had arrived.  Robb had followed in Ned’s footsteps and was set to the run the family business when his dad retired, which happened to be a very lucrative career in real estate development.  But Robb had always been the favorite and everyone else seemed to fall short, including Sansa.

Sansa decided to leave Arya and Jon to their drinking. Outside of the kitchen, the house was full of guests.  People were standing around in the large family dining room, chatting while sipping their expensive wine and nibbling on their expensive finger foods.  Ned and Catelyn were standing hand-in-hand in the dining room entryway that led to the foyer, chatting with none other than Robert Baratheon.  Sansa felt a familiar twist in her stomach, then reminded herself that Joffrey was dead and would not be here. 

Robert Baratheon was harmless enough and had never treated Sansa badly, but the sight of him reminded her who his son was and brought about memories better left buried. Her eyes darted around, half-expecting to see his wife, Cersei, glaring at her from some corner, just waiting to pounce, but she didn’t appear to be present.  Their other children, Myrcella and Tommen, didn’t seem to be present either.

But Sansa saw Gendry sitting at the dining room table, staring into what appeared to be a wine glass with a scrunched up nose. She took the seat beside him and he looked up at her.

“Sandor let you off tonight, huh?”

He shrugged. “My old man didn’t want to come alone.  Cersei is on vacation with Tommen and Myrcella.  That’s why I didn’t ride with Arya.  He insisted I come along with him.  He’s actually behaving at the moment, but I have a feeling by the end of the night he will have some woman in his lap and will forget I’m even here.”

“Well, in that case, you can ride back with Arya and me.”

“Where is she anyway? She sent texts your entire drive down, bitching about having to be here.  Did she decide to hide out?”

“She’s in the kitchen with Jon polishing off some beers. Guess it helps them deal with Mother.”

He huffed out a humorless laugh and shook his head. “She didn’t seem all that happy to see me.  Think she forgot that my dad is your dad’s best mate.”  He sniffed at the wine again, as though contemplating giving it a second chance then set it down on the table.  “So why didn’t the Hound show face tonight?  He could’ve had my shift covered without having to be there.”

Sansa lightly smacked at his arm. “Don’t call him that.  I haven’t told my parents that he and I are…they don’t know the exact nature of…”  Sansa bit her lip, unable to explain it to Gendry without making it sound as though she were ashamed of Sandor.

He was looking at her expectantly though, so she continued. “Mother doesn’t know that Sandor and I are dating.  I didn’t think her anniversary party was the appropriate occasion to announce it.”

Gendry nodded in understanding. “Arya didn’t tell your mum about us for a long time.  Think your dad knew though.”

“He likes you,” Sansa offered. “I think he believes you’re a good influence on Arya.”

“More like she’s a bad influence on me,” Gendry quipped.

“You aren’t wrong,” Sansa chuckled. “I think he’d like Sandor too.”

Gendry studied her for a moment. “Why don’t you tell him?”

“Didn’t we just go over this?”

Gendry shook his head. “No, don’t tell your mum.  Just tell Ned.  That is, if you can get him away from your mum.”

Arya appeared at that moment and offered a beer to Gendry, who looked relieved to get rid of his glass of wine. Sansa stood and mingled with her parents’ friends.  She managed to offer Robert Baratheon a smile and a quick hug, still feeling guilty about her discomfort around him.  She hadn’t gone to Joffrey’s funeral, but she had heard that Cersei had been furious that Sansa hadn’t shown up to offer condolences after all their families’ history together.  She was overjoyed Cersei had decided to skip this party.

When her parents finally seemed to have a break from greeting their guests, Sansa found them. She threw her arms around Ned’s neck and placed a kiss on his check.  “Happy anniversary, Daddy.”

He placed a quick kiss on her head. “Glad you’re here, Red.”

Sansa turned to her mother, slipping an arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek. “Having a good time, Mom?”

Catelyn gave her a tight smile and nodded. “Yes, of course.  Lyanna is already in bed.  She wore herself out today playing outside with the dogs.”  Sansa studied her mom’s face for a moment, noting that she was avoiding Sansa’s eyes. _Is she still mad at me?_

“Pupcake missed her last night and today. Thinks she’s been abandoned,” Sansa joked, trying to shake off the weird vibe she was getting from her mom. 

Catelyn’s eyes snapped somewhere around Sansa’s left shoulder and a polite smile curved her lips. Before Sansa could turn around, she felt a hand on her elbow and froze at the unwanted contact.

“Petyr, so glad you could come,” Catelyn said, holding out a hand to shake. Baelish stepped around Sansa and embraced Catelyn instead; Sansa noted the slight narrowing of her father’s eyes and the curl of his lip.

“Glad to be here, Cat,” Petyr purred. He turned back to Sansa, placing his hand on her shoulder.  “This one is a hard-worker, Ned.  Always does whatever I ask of her.  She’s definitely been an asset to my office.”

Sansa wanted to roll her eyes. She was a student worker, for Seven’s sake.  It wasn’t as though she were performing any major tasks.  She graded papers, she dusted, she made copies, and she answered the phone when the secretary was on break…it was all rather meaningless.  She didn’t know why Baelish made it sound like she was an essential member of his staff. 

“Hopefully you don’t need her too much,” Catelyn commented. “She should graduate within a year, maybe a year and a half.  Can’t be an office assistant forever.”

_Why does everything that comes out of her mouth make me mad?_ Sansa thought, trying to keep her expression neutral.

“Perhaps I can help her find an appropriate internship, if she sticks with me,” Baelish said, giving her a knowing smirk.

_He must know I’ve got a side business_ , she thought, offering back a reluctant smile; though side business was hardly the word for it last night.  She’d made double her normal weekly salary last night at the festival selling her wares.  If business continued in that vein, Sansa had decided she would leave Baelish to his creepy ways and devote all her work time to sewing.

“That would be wonderful, Petyr, thank you for the offer,” Cat said, patting his arm. Ned looked like he’d swallowed a particularly large and nasty bug.

Baelish turned his eyes back to Sansa and she saw an amused glint there that she didn’t understand. He made a show of looking around before turning back to her once again.  “Sansa, I don’t see your boyfriend anywhere and he’s a hard one to miss.  Quite a big fellow.  I don’t think I caught his name though.  Couldn’t convince him to come celebrate with you tonight?”

Sansa felt heat rush to her face, her ears and cheeks on fire as she stared at Baelish, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. She managed to shake her head in answer, then her eyes shifted to Catelyn.  Her mother’s jaw had tightened and her lips were pursed.  Her blue eyes stared hard at her daughter, clearly waiting for her to elaborate. _Shit, shit, shit._

Sansa cleared her throat. “He had to work,” she squeaked to Baelish.

He smiled at her, laying his hand on her shoulder again. “He should’ve taken off to be with you.  Big event to miss.”  He wandered off, leaving Sansa standing there with sweaty palms and a racing heart. 

She peaked up at her dad, who was glaring daggers at Baelish. Catelyn, on the other hand, was glaring at _her_. 

“Sansa, can we speak outside?” Catelyn said, not waiting for a response as she turned and headed toward the patio door. 

Sansa dropped her head down, staring at the floor, and followed her mother. She was aware that Ned was following them, and she was secretly thankful that she wouldn’t be alone with her mom.  The three of them stepped through the sliding doors out onto the patio.  The cool air on her hot face calmed her a bit, but Sansa felt a wave of nausea hit her as Catelyn turned on her.

“Something you’ve been meaning to tell us, Sansa?” Catelyn demanded.

“Cat,” Ned said, quietly, but with a hint of warning.

“How long have you been hiding this from us, Sansa?” Catelyn demanded.

“Catelyn,” Ned said louder, a slight growl in his voice.

“Mom, it’s not a secret. It’s just not really any of your business,” Sansa said defensively.

“Not my business?! You’re my child, Sansa!  Do I not have a right to know who you’re involved with?  What about Lyanna?  Do I not have a right to know who you’re bringing around my granddaughter?”

Ned grasped Catelyn by the shoulders and turned him to her, forcing her to look at him. “Catelyn, Sansa is an adult.  This is not the right way to handle this.”

“I would never bring someone around Lyanna that I wasn’t comfortable with. She loves him, Mother.  I can’t really ask for much better than that.”

“You lied to me,” Catelyn told her, and Sansa was annoyed to see tears in her mom’s eyes, knowing she could cry almost at will.

“Just because I don’t give you every detail of my love life doesn’t mean I’ve lied to you.”

“You told us at Lyanna’s party you were just friends!”

“We were! We didn’t decide to date until…” Sansa paused, knowing what she was about to say didn’t sound much better, “…the next day.”

Catelyn rolled her eyes heavenward as if she just couldn’t take anymore.

“He’s a hell of a lot better option than Harry,” Sansa told her.

Catelyn fixed Sansa with another glare. “What does Harry have to do with this, Sansa?  You seem to think I favor him, but I don’t!  I want him in Lyanna’s life for obvious reasons, but I have _never_ thought that you should be with him after all he’s done.  But this…keeping things from us…”

“Catelyn, it’s been a month,” Ned cut in. “It’s not as though she’s been in a serious relationship with him for an extended period of time.  Arya dated someone for three years before we knew about it.”

“Sansa is not Arya,” Catelyn sniffed. She looked back to her daughter.  “Arya has always tried to get under my skin on purpose and I expect it from her, but you…I thought we were passed keeping secrets.”

“He is _not_ a secret!”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him then?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, Mother, maybe because of _this_ reaction!”

Ned sighed heavily, looking between the two of them as they glared at one another.

“Both of you,” he growled. “Sit down.”

Sansa and Catelyn sat in patio chairs as far from one another as they could get. Ned took the one beside Cat, which worried Sansa.  Did that mean he was on her side?  She waited as she watched Ned quietly say something to her mother that she couldn’t understand.

Ned finally looked back up at her. “Sansa,” he said, giving her a serious look.  “I want you to know you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Catelyn snapped her head around at Ned, her mouth falling open. He held up a hand to silence her.  “I wish you felt comfortable enough to tell us, but when it gets down to it, it _is_ your business.  Not ours.  I know you wouldn’t do anything to put Lyanna at risk.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Sansa said, shooting another glare at her mother. “Sandor is amazing with her.”

“He’s a brute,” Catelyn hissed.

“He did what he had to do as required by his job,” Ned said calmly. “Robert still talks about how he hated to lose Clegane from his security team, but after what happened to Sansa…”

“And how do you know that Clegane won’t turn on her as Joffrey did? He’s been around violence his entire life!  He was violent for a living, Ned!”

“He’s never hurt Sansa,” Ned said sternly. “You seem to forget he saved her life.”

“He allowed her to get beaten in the first place! He was there and he somehow didn’t make it to her until she was half-dead!”

“That wasn’t his job!” Sansa screeched, leaping from her chair.  “His job was to protect Joffrey, not me!”

“And yet, if he was a decent person, he would have done it regardless of who paid him!”

“Mother, he wasn’t there when it started! When he noticed I was gone, he came to find me immediately!  I’m tired of having this conversation over and over.  You don’t have to like it.  It is what it is.”

Catelyn was quiet for a moment, staring at a spot on the ground and seemingly trying to calm herself. Sansa met Ned’s eyes.

“Dad, I’m really, really happy right now. Lyanna is crazy about him and he is crazy about her.  And he and I are crazy about each other.”

Ned nodded. “I believe you.  I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” at that, Catelyn wrinkled her nose in disgust, “It’s obvious he cares about you.  That’s all I can ask for.”

“Treats me a hundred times better than Harry,” Sansa muttered as she caught her mother’s eye.

“Sansa,” Catelyn said through her teeth. “I do not _want_ you with Harry.  I’ve only tried to be polite to him for Lyanna.  I don’t _want_ you to be in a relationship where you’re treated like that.  I only wanted the two of you to be civil for Lyanna’s sake.”

“So you’re okay with being polite to Harry, but not to Sandor?”

Catelyn squeezed her eyes shut as if she just couldn’t deal with Sansa’s madness any longer. Sansa waited for her mother to argue again, but she stayed quiet.

“Catelyn,” Ned leaned over and put his arm around her. “It’s our anniversary.  Let’s go back inside and enjoy ourselves.  This is out of your control.  Let it go.”

Catelyn stood abruptly and smoothed out her dress. She strolled over to the patio door and slipped inside without another word.  Ned lingered, eventually coming to sit beside Sansa.

“That rat bastard Baelish,” Ned grunted.

Sansa couldn’t help the giggle that sprung from her throat. “He’s so creepy.  What does Mom see in him anyway?”

Ned shrugged. “Says he’s like a brother to her.  He doesn’t look at her like a brother would look at his sister though.”

“Maybe if they were Targaryens,” Sansa joked. “I just don’t understand why she is nicer to Harry than Sandor when Harry is…”

“A complete ass?” Ned supplied.  “She really doesn’t like Harry, Sansa.  You should hear the way she speaks of him.  I know from your perspective it may seem as though she’d choose Harry over Sandor, but really she would choose neither.”

“Then why does she think it’s so important that all of us immediately get married and settle down? Dad, she has hounded Robb for _years_ about getting married.  He’s twenty-five!  It started with his high school girlfriend and now, he thinks he has to be in a serious relationship with every girl he dates.  Then, when it doesn’t work out because he rushed into it, Mom gets all over him about screwing stuff up.  And JON!  Jon will never date anyone if he thinks he’s going to be under the kind of scrutiny that Robb has been under.”

“I know,” Ned said. “She and I have disagreements about it all the time.  She was young when I married her, nineteen years old.  It worked out for us and she seems to think that all of you kids should have settled down by now.  But there’s no way she’d choose Harry for you.  Not after what he’s put you through.”

“So she wants me to be in a relationship, but not with Harry _or_ Sandor,” Sansa rolled her eyes.

Ned shook his head. “I think you’re the exception, Sansa.  I don’t think Cat wants you with anyone because of all of the past trauma you’ve been through.  Sure, she wants Robb to settle down and Jon to find a nice girl, but with you, I think she’d rather you be alone.”

“Well, I’m not,” Sansa said with a note of petulance. “Does she think I’m cursed or something?”

Sansa meant it as a dark joke, but Ned’s eyes met hers and he raised his brows. “I think that’s exactly what she thinks.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, deflating a little. “Somehow that’s worse than her wanting me to be with Harry.”

“You haven’t had the best luck,” Ned said.

“True,” Sansa sighed, a little bothered as the thought of being cursed resonated with her. She had felt that way too, but she hadn’t really put a label on it before.

Ned looked toward the door, peering into the party. “I better get back.  Catelyn will come around.”

“Will she?”

Ned nodded. “I think so.  If not, don’t let her ruin anything for you.  I like Sandor.  He seems like a good man.  As long as he treats you and Lyanna the way you deserve, I’ll never have a problem with him.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Sansa said as she watched him go back inside. She took a deep breath slumped back in her chair.  She waited until she had cooled down and breathed easier before going back inside. 

Sansa decided she could use one of those beers Jon and Arya had been drinking, so she disappeared into the kitchen and popped open a bottle. She had left her cell phone sitting on the counter and noticed the notification light blinking.  She opened it up to a text from Sandor.

**Sandor: how’s it going?**

_Sansa: I miss you.  I wish you were here with me._

**Sandor: Wish I was with u too.  I’ll see u later tonight.**

_Sansa: Can’t wait!_

_Sansa: Cat’s out of the bag by the way.  Baelish ratted us out.  Also, he touched me twice and I want to vomit._

**Sandor: want me to rip his arms off?  And what do u mean he ratted us out?  Ur parents know?**

_Sansa: Yep.  It got ugly.  I would say yes to ripping his arms off, but I like you better as a free man.  I would be lonely if you went to jail.  Thanks for the offer though :)_

**Sandor: not ok with someone touching my woman. How pissed is your mom?**

Sansa felt butterflies when she read it, smiling stupidly down at her phone as she sent a text back.

_Sansa: Damn right I’m your woman.  And don’t forget it.  And mom is pretty pissed but she will get over it.  See you later._

**Sandor: later baby.**

She eventually sat her phone back down and went to find something to eat. Several of her parents’ friends came up to her, told her what an adorable little girl she had, offered sympathies on her break-up with Harry.  She smiled and nodded and wished she could tell them she didn’t need or want any pity where he was concerned. _She_ had left _him_ after all, but many of them were acting as though Harry had broken her heart.

_Well, he did_ , Sansa conceded, though it didn’t really hurt anymore.  Her heart was too full of other things now.  She hardly remembered the heartache Harry had caused her.  Sandor had filled her with hope and happiness and she was getting tired of hiding it, even if it had only been a few weeks.  She wanted to tell people how great they were together. 

She meandered through the crowd and avoided Baelish the best she could, though every once in a while he would meet her eyes and grin at her in his slimy way. She eventually retreated to the family room where the Stark kids appeared to be hiding out.  Robb, Jon, and Arya were all seated on the sectional, the boys with their ties loosened at their throats.

“Where’s Gendry?” Sansa asked as she plopped down beside Arya.

She rolled her eyes, “Trying to keep his dad off of our dad’s secretary. Apparently she’s a pretty young thing and Robert can’t keep his eyes off her.”

“At least it isn’t you this time,” Jon said, nodding to Arya. “He usually goes on about what a beauty you are.”

Arya rolled her eyes a second time and made a face. “Just because he had a thing for _your_ mom and I have a small resemblance to her.”

“It’s not a small resemblance,” Robb cut in, grinning at their younger sister. “If you weren’t dating his son, I bet you’d be in his lap right about now.”

“Yes, in his lap about to snip his balls off,” Arya muttered.

Jon snorted. “I think the blue hair helps deter him.”

“I’m keeping it then,” Arya said. “You’d think he’d go after the daughter with mile-high legs, but noooo.”

“Alas, I don’t look anything like Aunt Lyanna,” Sansa shrugged. “It’s your burden to bear, little sister.”

Robb looked thoughtful. “How cool would it be to see Papa Baratheon versus Baby Baratheon fighting for the love of our sweet sister?”

Jon ducked his head to hide his grin and Arya reached over punched Robb in the arm.

“Do not call him Baby Baratheon! That’s not even his last name!”

“It _would_ make for an interesting fight,” Jon said.

Sansa laughed as Arya reached over and punched Jon as well.

“Where’s Bran when I need him?” Arya asked.  “At least he’s always on my side.”

“Didn’t want to miss school,” Robb told her. “At least Rickon snuck off with his girlfriend.  You know all this would be worse if he was here too.”

“Guys, I think Mom is going to drive me crazy,” Sansa said, abruptly changing the subject. “I don’t think she trusts me to be a fully functioning adult.”

Arya and Robb just stared at her as though she had said the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sansa, she doesn’t trust any of us to be fully functioning adults,” Robb told her.

“Oh, _puh-lease_ ,” Sansa said.  “You’re her favorite.  Imagine how shitty it is for the rest of us!”

“Well, when you’re the golden child, you’re expected to be perfect,” Robb said. “When I fall short, I never hear the end of it.”

“Maybe you should be more like me,” Arya said. “Honestly, she expects me to fail, so she mostly leaves me alone now.  Just the occasional dirty look.  Strive to be a failure, guys!”

“You’re not a failure,” Jon told her. “You just don’t fit her cookie cutter mold.”

“That’s an understatement,” Robb said under his breath, teasing his sister, who punched him again.

“I’m going to let her meet Sandor again tomorrow,” Sansa said decisively. “When Mom and Dad bring Lyanna back home, I’ll introduce him as my boyfriend.”

“You’re a brave one,” Robb commented.

_No more hiding_ , Sansa thought to herself.  Catelyn could accept him or not, but it wouldn’t change anything.  She’d just have to get used to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't hate Catelyn. In other stories I'm working on, she's not such a colossal bitch. But I try to always write slightly different versions of the characters in different stories, and in this one...well...she's controlling, to put it nicely.


	23. This feels right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, the confrontation with Catelyn doesn't happen yet, because, ya know, more mature content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This always makes me really nervous. But I do it anyway.

(Sandor)

The bar had been busy, as per usual for a Saturday night, so by the time last call rolled around, Sandor was more than ready to get out of there. He instructed the hostess to lock the door, but let people out who needed to leave.  A couple of minutes later, the hostess appeared at his elbow with a small smile.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind letting one more person in,” she said as she peered over her shoulder.

He scowled at the hostess, then glanced up to where she was looking and froze.

Sansa stood at the end of the bar. She wore a tight black dress and her hair fell around her shoulder in loose curls.  She was bit too dressed up for his bar, so this must have been what she’d worn to her parents’ party.  He tossed down the rag he had been using to wipe down the bar and made his way over to her, unable to stop his eyes roaming her body.

“You’re late for last call, Little Bird,” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sure the owner would make sure to give me whatever I want. Good customer service and all,” she smirked at him and he had a very strong impulse to kiss her.

He leaned over the bar, closer to her and saw her eyes drop to his mouth. “What would you like?  A beer?  Some fruity concoction?  A shot?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something a bartender can get for me.”  He watched as she licked her lips, pulled the bottom lip between her teeth.  “We’re in public and it would probably be frowned upon.”

He quirked his eyebrow at her as he studied her mouth and said, “I need to help them clean up…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him, finally taking a seat at the end of the bar. “I’ve already been home to see Pupcake and make sure she was okay.  I was just ready to see you.”

Sandor struggled to take his eyes off her so he could get back to his tasks. He wanted to tell people to hurry up and get the hell out so he could take his girlfriend home, but he figured that wouldn’t be good for business.  And because she was sitting there, looking like _that_ , everything seemed to slow down and take much longer than normal.

By the time the bar was empty with only Sansa perched on her bar stool, his employees had seemed to take the hint that he was ready to leave and told him they’d finish cleaning up without him. He strolled to the end of the bar and stopped in front of her.  She held out her hand, “Help me down?”

Instead of taking her hand in his, he stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her waist, lifting her down slowly, letting her body slide against his as he set her on the floor. Her hands were on his shoulders and she didn’t move them even after he had set her down.

Unable to stop the magnetism he felt around her, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, and then slowly, he touched his lips to hers, barely brushing her mouth.

“Get a room!” One of the waiters called amongst the sound of snickering.

Sandor pulled back and threw a scowl over his shoulder that all of his employees knew by now to be harmless. Sansa slid her hand into his and he pulled her out the door, locking it behind him.  Once on the sidewalk, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her properly.

Sansa sighed, “We have to separate long enough to drive our cars home.”

“It’s only a few minutes,” he told her.

“Hmm. True, but I was looking forward to holding your hand all the way there.”

He snorted. “More like I’d be touching as much of your leg as I could all the way there,” he said, eyeing the hem of the short dress.

Sansa swatted at his arm and started for her car as he headed to his truck. It was chilly outside now that it was late October, and he wondered if those long legs of hers were covered in goosebumps.

It took seven minutes to get from his bar to his house without any traffic, but it seemed much longer. All he could think about was the shape of her body in that dress, those long, pale legs stretching upward for what seemed like miles, and pulling that zipper on the back of her dress all the way down so he could get it off of her.

He pulled into his driveway seconds after she pulled into hers and hopped out of his truck. He caught up with her before she’d made it to the door.  He wrapped his arms around her waist as she fumbled with the key at the side door.  He dropped his head to her shoulder, pressing kisses to the bit of exposed skin at her shoulder and on her neck. 

He heard her breath catch in her throat, but wasn’t deterred.

“You’re distracting me,” she said a bit breathlessly.

“Deal with it,” he growled, grazing the shell of her ear with his teeth.

She finally managed to get the key in the hole and pushed the door open. She stepped inside without Sandor ever having removed his hands from her waist as he continued giving attention to her shoulder and neck.

His hands moved down from her waist to settle on either hip, and he dragged the material of her dress to her upper thighs so he could feel the soft skin of her legs. The breathless noises she made were spurring him on and he briefly thought _I’m not going to make it to the bedroom_.

She pressed her hips into his, grinding her bottom into his erection and it took an astounding amount of restraint to keep from ripping her dress to pieces right there. He moved his left hand away from her leg and into her hair, tossing it over her left shoulder as he licked the skin at the back of her neck.  Then, he grasped the zipper on her dress and, though he was feeling a fair amount of urgency, pulled it down slowly, determined not to ruin her dress.

When Sandor had unzipped it all the way, he pushed it off her shoulders, watched it fall in a black pool on the floor of her living room. She kicked it away from her legs and turned to him.

_Gods be good, how the fuck did I get so lucky?_

She stood before him in her strapless, lacy black bra and matching panties. She was still wearing her red heels, which added about four inches to her height.  It was like looking at a dream.  Pale skin, black lace, and the fire of her hair made her look like a work of art.   He’d seen plenty of beautiful women, but he’d never seen anything as perfect as Sansa. 

_And she’s kind, and funny, and she actually likes me for some reason_.

Sansa began walking backwards toward the couch, kicking her shoes off as she went. Sandor didn’t follow, just watched her and shook his head when she made to sit.  She gave him a confused look.

“Bed,” he rasped. “This won’t be quick, Sansa.”  They’d had some heated afternoons, for sure.  But everything had happened on his or her couch, once against a wall, and a couple of times in the pool before it had gotten too cold.  He wasn’t sure why the bed hadn’t been utilized yet, and he thought it was because they were always in a hurry, but now he briefly wondered if maybe she didn’t want him in there.

She just nodded and took his hand to lead him to her bedroom. She didn’t turn on the overhead light, but he could still see her thanks to the light filtering in from the street lamp.  She backed up to the edge of the bed and stopped, seemingly waiting on him.

Sandor couldn’t take his eyes off of her, but also couldn’t decide where to look. His eyes shifted from her copper hair, still hanging over her left shoulder; to her eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal; to her mouth, lips pink and parted as her tongue darted out to wet them; to her breasts, full but still hiding behind the lace of her bra; then down to her waist, her hips, the juncture of her thighs; down her long legs that he desperately wanted wrapped around his neck.

He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then tossed it to the floor. Sansa sat on the bed and watched him, her eyes roaming over his bare chest.  He kicked off his shoes and socks then went to stand in front of her.  Before he could say anything to her, she had already starting pulling at his belt.  She popped open the button to his jeans and yanked down the zipper and all he could do was watch her.

Sansa grabbed the jeans by the belt loops and tugged down pants and boxers all in one sweep. He stepped out of them and was leaning down to kiss her when he felt her slender fingers wrap around his erection.  He watched her, trying to stay in control of his body, though she was making it damn difficult to go slow.  When she leaned forward and put her mouth on the head, his hips gave an involuntary thrust forward and he threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut.

_I can’t let her do this_ , he thought in desperation. _I’ll never fucking last_. 

At the feel of her teeth grazing him, he reached down and grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her away. She let go with a pop and gave him a cocky smirk.  He pulled her to her feet, then reached around her to expertly unclasp that bra.  She gave a noise of surprise as the bra fell away.  Sandor pulled her closer to him by her hips, letting his erection brush against her belly.  His hands slid up her waist, his fingers dragging along her rib cage, before he finally covered both breasts with his hands.  He squeezed gently, ran his thumbs along her nipples, and watched as her eyes fluttered closed.

Her skin was so soft. He wondered if it ever bothered her to be touched by such rough, calloused hands, but he couldn’t help but touch her.  He watched as her nipples hardened further beneath his hands and he wanted to taste them again. 

“Lay down,” he growled. She complied, plopping down on the bed in a way that made her breasts bounce, and he felt his dick give a twitch at the sight.  She moved up to the top of the bed and lay back, a hand resting low on her stomach, fingers trailing downward as if she wanted to touch herself.  He crawled on after her, covering her body with his.

Gods, but she looked so fucking good lying under him like this. Her hair fanned out against the pillow and her chest heaved with anticipation.  Propped on his elbows, he leaned down to capture her mouth with his.  She kissed him like she was desperate for him, like she wouldn’t be able to breathe again if he didn’t keep kissing her.

He nudged her legs apart further with his knees and she instinctively bucked her hips upwards, brushing against him. He pushed his hips into hers, grinding into the apex of her thighs as she moaned into his mouth.  He pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, sucking at her pulse point.  Her hands were in his hair and pulled it almost to the point of pain, scratched her nails against his scalp.

He trailed his mouth down, scraping his teeth along her collarbone. He moved further down and ran his tongue over a hard, pink nipple as he pinched the other one between his thumb and forefinger.  He kissed and toyed at her breast as he would with her lips and she moaned and writhed under him.  He released her and moved down further, dipping his tongue into her belly button.

Her hips moved the whole time, bucking against whatever part of his body lined up with them. So when he decided to move between her legs, he placed a hand on each hip to hold her still.  Her breathing was ragged and her legs moved restlessly around him.  He dropped his head down and pressed a kiss to her panties and felt the wetness seep through.  Gods, the smell of her was amazing.  He hooked two fingers in the crotch of her underwear and pulled them down her legs. 

Her knees tried to close a little, but he pushed them apart again and crawled back between her legs, his eyes shifting between the wet folds he so desperately wanted to get his mouth on and her face. Her eyes were hooded and dark, pupils enlarged, and she bit into her bottom lip.  Her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, thumbs touching the dark red curls of her sex.

As intrigued as he was with the idea of her pleasuring herself while he watched, he was a man on a mission and that particular fantasy would have to wait for another day. He threw her right leg over his left shoulder and pushed her other leg open with his right hand, then he lowered his mouth to taste her. 

Sandor had only ever done this a couple of times, but he’d had great results with it. He dipped his tongue into her wetness, pushing in and out a few times, savoring the taste.  He trailed his tongue up along her slit, parted her lips with two fingers, and laved at her hard little clit.  Her hips thrust forward and she let out a low moan.  Her hands went back into his hair, her legs fell further open as he continued to run his tongue over her, back and forth, up and down, around.

Sandor was harder than he’d ever been in his life, spurred on by the noises she made and the way both of her hands gripped his hair. He fought the urge to wrap his hands around his dick, though it begged to be touched.  Sansa’s hips were jerking against him and he longed to bury himself inside her and forget everything.  But there was no way he was taking his mouth off her at this point.  He sucked her clit into his mouth and he heard her curse, which was rare for her, and he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. 

This, apparently, did something for Sansa, as she jerked violently against him when she felt the breath and vibrations of his laugh. Her hips began moving more erratically and he knew she was close.  He shoved two fingers inside her and felt her tighten immediately, her body clamping down on him as he felt a rush of wetness.  Sansa completely stiffened then, gasping as she rode out the waves of her climax.  He pulled his fingers from her heat with some difficulty considering how tight she was, then moved up her body to lay a kiss on her cheek.

“Gods,” she whispered. “ _Gods_.”  She lifted a hand and wiped at his mouth with her thumb, likely seeing the wetness she’d left on his lips.  Then she brought her thumb to her pretty lips and sucked it into her mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Sansa,” he growled, pushing into her in one easy slide, his balls slapping against her skin as he buried himself all the way.

She gasped at the feeling, still so tight from her orgasm. Her legs tangled with his, her feet resting on his calves as she attempted to bring him closer.  Her arms wound around his neck and she pulled him down, kissing him hard, nipping at his lips.

“So good,” she said, breathlessly. “Why does it feel so good?”

He chuckled again against her mouth. “Is it not supposed to?”  He drew himself out of her nearly all the way before plunging back in, near drunk with the tight heat enveloping him.

She smiled against his mouth. “It’s never been like this.  Ever.”

“Same,” he rasped, pulling out and thrusting in again, finding a rhythm.

Her hands trailed down his back, her nails scratching at his skin whenever he hit a particularly tender spot, then came to rest on his butt, grabbing and kneading the flesh as he pounded into her.

He watched her, trying to keep control of himself, wanting it to last forever. She was watching him too, when she was able to keep her eyes open.  But often enough, they would flutter closed and she’d bite into her lip, trying to unsuccessfully stop the noises she made.  Sandor changed angles slightly so that he was brushing against her clit with every thrust and she almost lost it.  She cried out and threw her head back.  Sandor took the opportunity to drop his head down and lick at her exposed neck, tasting the salt on her skin.

He felt her begin to tighten again and picked up speed, snapping his hips into hers roughly. When he felt the squeeze of her body around him, he let go, spilling deep inside her, stars exploding behind his eyes as he collapsed on top of her.  He quickly rolled off of her, suddenly aware he could crush her, and pulled her into his arms.

Her hand slid up his chest, tangling in the dark hair there. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then to her mouth. 

_This feels right_ , he thought as he held her to his side and listened to her breathing become even.  It was probably 3 a.m.  He ran his fingers through her hair as she lay sleeping in the space between his shoulder and arm.  It wasn’t just the amazing sex either.  Holding her in bed felt right.  Cooking dinner at her house for her and Lyanna felt right.  Stolen kisses in the middle of the day felt right. 

When the realization hit him, it didn’t shock him near as much as he thought it would.

_I love her_ , he thought calmly, closing his eyes as the lids became heavy. _I’m in love with her._

 

 


	24. You don't have to like it, but you can't stop it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa lays down the law to her mother.

The yellow sunlight streaming through the window was what woke her initially. Sansa was curled up at the very edge of the bed, tucked against Sandor’s side.  He was snoring loud enough to rattle the windows, but for some reason, it hadn’t disturbed Sansa while she slept.  He was sprawled out on her full-size bed like a starfish, his feet dangling off the end of the bed. 

Sansa lifted her hand to his scarred cheek, running her fingers along the twisted bumpy skin. He probably couldn’t feel it.  She studied his soft, plump bottom lip, touching her finger to the small bit of smooth skin at the corner that didn’t quite match the rest of his mouth.  She ran her index finger up under his left eye where the skin puckered.  She often caught herself thinking that it looked painful, though she knew it didn’t hurt him anymore.  She remembered with clarity the story he’d told her, so long ago now, of how he’d gotten his scars.

Sansa was the furthest one could be from a violent person, but she found herself wishing that Gregor Clegane could endure at least half the pain he’d put his brother through. She’d only seen him a handful of times and he’d always scared her, more than Sandor ever had.  She pushed the thought of that monster away as she looked back to Sandor’s face.  A face that filled her with fondness every time she saw it.

_If you could see yourself through my eyes_ , she thought, not for the first time.

His snoring cut off abruptly and he took a deep breath, rolling toward her and wrapping his arm around her waist. She watched as his eyes fluttered open, his silver-grey staring into her blue.

“You snore,” she said in greeting.

He grunted and closed his eyes again, shifting further back on the bed and pulling her with him. “I’m a bed hog too.”

Sansa nodded against his chest. “You are.”

“Your bed is tiny.”

“My bed is normal. You’re just huge.”

He grunted again and she reached up to scratch at his beard.

“It’s okay,” she teased. “I can live with these small inconveniences in exchange for the things you did last night.”

He opened one eye and peered at her curiously, the corner of his mouth and an eyebrow lifting at the same time. “That good, huh?”

She leaned up and nibbled at his bottom lip. “That good.”

That seemed to wake him up quickly, because one moment she was on her side cuddled to his chest, and the next he’d rolled her to her back and was hovering over her, pressing against her entrance. Sansa realized with a start that she was already wet.  She’d never known it to happen that quickly.

_Only him_ , she thought as he pushed into her.  His thrusts were slower this time, and he kissed her so sweetly, and when they were done he didn’t immediately move, but hovered above her, staring down into her face as he caught his breath, something unfamiliar, but gentle in his gaze. 

_No one’s ever looked at me like that_ , she thought.  She lifted her hand to his face, scratched her fingers through his beard.  He pushed himself up off of her and moved to the end of the bed, where she had an unobstructed view of that tattoo on his back.  Between his shoulder blades, there was a date, and then three initials that read EKC, and then another date, a bit over eight years between them.  She followed him to the end of the bed and touched the ink.

“What’s this mean?” She asked quietly, hoping it wasn’t a topic that was off-limits.

He turned his head so she could see one side of his voice and let loose a sigh. “It’s a birth date and a death date.”

Sansa had figured that much. Clearly, it wasn’t an old girlfriend or a parent, but an eight-year-old child.

“Who was it?”

“My sister.” That’s all he offered as he found his boxers and stood to pull them up.

Sansa pressed on. “Can I ask what her name was?”

He gave another heavy sigh and groaned. He turned to her, gave her a look that indicated this was not a pleasant topic, and said, “Elinor.”

Sansa wanted to ask what had happened. She wanted to know if Sandor had been close to her.  Surely he must have been if he had permanently marked his body in her remembrance.

Sandor obviously sensed her curiosity because he sat back down beside her on the bed, but didn’t meet her eyes. “My brother burned half my face off when I was seven.  Elinor was four.  By some miracle, she wasn’t horrified at my new face.  Both she and I were scared of Gregor.  He left bruises on her all the time.  I was too little to stop him.  He had beat on her the day he shoved my face against that heater.  Twelve years old beating on a child one year older than Lyanna,” Sandor shook his head.  “After all that, after I watched my brother beat my sister, I still looked the other way when I knew Joffrey was hitting you.”

Sansa was quiet, unsure of what to say to that. He hadn’t exactly looked the other way the one time he’d witnessed it, but to argue that fact was futile.  Sansa was aware that Sandor knew what was going on then.  Too many times his eyes would land on the marks on her body.  His grey eyes would meet hers and she would see a flash of anger.  At the time, lost as she was in her own mind, she had thought his anger might have stemmed from the fact that if Joff were caught, it would get him in trouble.  Sansa had believed that she was doing things to deserve the treatment, and as far as she knew, Sandor was aggravated at her for constantly annoying Joffrey to the point of abuse.

She’d been stupid, of course. Even before she had found him again, she had come to the conclusion that he was not angry with her, but at himself, even more than he had been at Joffrey or Meryn. 

“What happened to her?” Sansa dared to ask, pulling herself away from her own dark memories.

“Fell down the stairs,” he said in a tone that indicated that this is not what he believed happened at all.

“Gregor?” She asked quietly.

“It’s always Gregor.”

Sansa touched the tattoo again, her heart hurting for the little girl who had endured hell at the hands of her oldest brother. And it hurt, too, for a little boy with dark hair and grey eyes, who tried to protect his sister and faced the wrath for her once.  She could see him so clearly in her head that she wondered if she had ever seen a photo of him as a child.  But she knew that there were no photos hanging up in his living room.

“I wish I knew what you looked like as a child,” she said. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and made her way to the dresser to search for clean underwear.

“Wonder what I looked like without these scars, do you?” He groused. 

She spun on her heel, panties in hand, and glowered at him. “That is _not_ where I was going with that.  I’d just like to see a photo of you.  I don’t care if it’s before or after the burns.”

He snorted. “Little Bird, how many photos do you think people are going to take of an ugly disfigured kid with a bad attitude?”

Sansa decided to ignore him because now he was just ruining her good mood. She checked the time and was shocked to see it was nearly noon.  She hurriedly put on a tank top, opting for comfort rather than a bra, and found a fitted long sleeve tee shirt to pull over it. “My parents will be here soon.  Better get dressed.”

“Aye, need to get gone before Mrs. Stark finds me in your bed,” he muttered darkly.

His mood was getting on her nerves now. She pulled her skinny jeans over her hips and gave him a cool look.  “Actually, I just don’t want her fainting at the sight of your bare chest and huge muscles.  She may like it more than she knows.  You aren’t going anywhere.  They know we’re together now.  No reason for you to leave.” 

That said, she strolled out of the room, leaving him with what she imagined was a dumbstruck look on his face. She started some coffee for them and brushed her teeth as she waited for it.  He came out of her room dressed in his clothes from the night before.  “I’m going home to shower and change.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t.  We’re in this together, Clegane.  I don’t get to show, so neither do you.”

He glared at her. “You’re going to make a grand statement about our relationship status to your mother while I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes and smelling like sex?”  His voice was a growl, but he didn’t fool Sansa.  She wasn’t scared of him.

“Maybe you should leave some clothes over here from now on just in case this kind of thing happens,” she stirred creamer into her coffee until it was white and caught his look of disgust when he saw the color. She pushed his black coffee to him and he took it, peeking into the mug as though to make sure she hadn’t added anything to make it sweet.

“Your hair is sexy like that by the way,” she teased him. “It’s got that ‘just rolled out of bed after incredible sex and I don’t give a fuck’ look.  Very you.”

At that, he sat his coffee down and disappeared into the bathroom, seemingly to tame his hair. Sansa heard her doorbell ring and her heart quickened a bit. 

_This is it._

Sansa answered the door and let in Ned and Catelyn, who was carrying Lyanna on her hip.

“Mommy!” Lyanna squealed, and then practically leapt from Catelyn’s arms to her mother’s.

“Hi, baby, I missed you!” Sansa kissed her chubby little cheeks.  “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Did you do good at your festibul?” Lyanna asked and Sansa had to hide her smirk at the word ‘festibul’.

“Yes, baby, I did great. I was sad you were already asleep when I got to Pappy and Grams’s party.  I heard you had a busy day.”

Lyanna nodded. “I played with the puppies all day.  I missed Pupcake though.”

Pupcake, who had heard her name, gave a whimper as she scampered into the living room and jumped on Sansa’s legs in an attempt to reach Lyanna.

Sansa heard the bathroom door swing open then and Sandor’s footfalls on the hardwood. Ned and Catelyn both looked puzzled, but when Sandor’s huge form came to stand in the doorway, Lyanna squirmed in Sansa’s arms until she let her down and leapt at Sandor.  She threw her little arms around his long legs before he knew what had happened.

“San-more! I miss you more than Pupcake!”  She hugged at his leg until he managed to coax her off him so he could lift her.

Sansa saw Ned’s mouth twitch into a smile, but Catelyn stood there, blinking in confusion, her mouth a thin line.

“Have a seat, guys,” Sansa said, indicating her couch. Her parents sat on the couch next to each other while Sansa took the small accent chair.  Sandor plopped down in the floor and Lyanna immediately started crawling all over him, trying to get on his shoulders.

“I thought the two of you may want an official introduction,” Sansa began. “So…meet my boyfriend.”  She had meant it to be funny, but it came out weakly.  Catelyn didn’t smile, though Ned scratched at his chin and gave Sansa an amused look, likely knowing that this was going to be awkward for her.

Sansa cleared her throat, more as a tactic to delay rather than because she needed it. “Well, Sandor and I have been seeing each other about a month, like I told you last night.  So, any future family functions, just expect to see him as well.”

Catelyn’s lips grew thinner the longer Sansa watched her and she wondered if her mother was trying to keep herself quiet. Catelyn threw a quick glance at Sandor, who was too occupied with Lyanna to pay much attention to the conversation, then settled her eyes back on Sansa.

“As I said last night,” Catelyn said. “I’m disappointed that you felt the need to hide this for a month.”

“I wanted to make sure that it was something Sandor and I both wanted before I told you about it. If it had just been one casual date, then there would have been no point in opening that can of worms.”

“Telling your parents about your love life shouldn’t be a burden,” Catelyn said with calmness in her voice that was contradictory to the look on her face. Catelyn’s statement in itself struck Sansa as funny. 

_No, telling you shouldn’t be a burden, but you’ve made it that way._

Sansa huffed. “Look, I have a toddler and a job and I go to school. None of that has scared him off.  That should mean something to you.  He’s not around just because he wants to date me. We’re a team.  This last month, we’ve been taking care of things _together._ We’ve been taking care of Lyanna together.  Our relationship is a bit more than a dinner for two without a toddler.  I would never do anything that wasn’t in the best interest of Lyanna.  And _look at her_.”

Lyanna was hanging from Sandor’s back, her little arms nearly choking him. Her right cheek was pressed against his hair as she looked up at her grandmother.

“What’s in it for you?” Catelyn asked, as politely as she could, turning her eyes to Sandor.

He carefully unhooked Lyanna’s arms from around his neck and she slid down his back before coming around in front of him. Lyanna plopped down in his lap and tilted her head back to look at him.  He laid his huge hand on her tiny head, covering her scalp as he rubbed at her hair.  He shrugged.  “I get to be with Sansa and be a part of this one’s life.  Does there need to be anything else?” 

Catelyn’s face softened just a hair at his comment and she leaned forward in her seat, studying his face. “I don’t doubt what you’re telling me is what you believe to be true.  But you understand why I worry, right?  Sansa is a single mother with a small child.  There aren’t many men that are going to be knocking down her door volunteering to be a part of her life, as well as he child’s life.  Children aren’t easy.”

Sansa watched Sandor’s eyes harden a bit, and he barely kept the growl out of his voice when he said, “Then those are the wrong kinds of men.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her mouth and she ducked her head down as she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

Catelyn nodded once. “And you’re the right kind?”  She wasn’t mocking him, Sansa noted, but speaking to him as though she was legitimately trying to make sure that he had good intentions toward her daughter and granddaughter.

“I’ll try my damnedest to be the right kind.”

“Language!” Lyanna shrieked, slapping Sandor lightly on the arm.

Catelyn didn’t quite smile, but some of the tension fell away from her face and she nodded. Her eyes found Sansa again.  “I wish that you hadn’t kept this from me.”

Sansa fought the urge to roll her eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret, Mom.  I’ve been busy.  And it’s only been a month.  How long did Arya keep her relationship with Gendry hidden?”

Catelyn rolled her eyes skyward. “Let’s not even get on that topic.  You and Arya are different people.  Arya does it for spite and you know it.”  She looked to Ned.  “You’re okay with this, then?”

Ned nodded, sitting forward in his seat as well. “Aye, it’s fine with me.  And it should be fine with you too, Cat.  He’s a good man.  Better than what she’s had in the past by a long shot.”

Catelyn nodded, seeming to agree with that assessment. “Can we speak privately, Sansa?”

“Catelyn,” Ned said in warning, but she ignored him as she looked at Sansa expectantly.

Sansa felt a twisting in her gut and for a moment, she considered telling her mother no. She wasn’t sure what Catelyn would say to her once Ned, Sandor, and Lyanna weren’t around to hear, but reluctantly, she nodded and stood, indicating to Catelyn that she should follow her through the kitchen.  Pupcake trotted after them, sensing somehow that Sansa was headed for the backyard.

They stepped out onto the deck and Pupcake took off running, the cooler temperatures seemingly giving her more energy.

Sansa leaned against the railing and watched as the puppy ran the length of the yard. She was probably hoping her shenanigans would draw Stranger’s attention.

“Sansa,” Catelyn started, and Sansa could hear the caution in her voice. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about you.”

“Well, it’s your job to worry about me,” Sansa said lightly, hoping this conversation wouldn’t turn down too dark a path.

“It is,” Catelyn agreed. “And you’ve chosen to enter into a relationship with a man who makes me nervous.”

Sansa closed her eyes, already feeling the start of a headache behind her right eye. “Mother, he is not dangerous.”

“You didn’t see what he did to Meryn Trant….”

“It doesn’t matter. Meryn Trant tried to kill me.  If Sandor had beaten him to death, I think I would be okay with it.”

“I know that he saved you, Sansa, and I am forever grateful for that, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t worry about you being with someone with that kind of capacity for violence.”

Sansa rubbed at her right eyebrow, where the headache seemed to spread, and tried to take a calming breath before speaking. “Mother, you seem to be forgetting that I was only in that situation because I was with Joffrey. _Joffrey_ , who hit me, belittled me, cursed me, and then ordered his bodyguard to hit me when he was worried he’d get into trouble.”

“Joffrey was a terrible human being,” Catelyn agreed. “I’ve never denied that and I have struggled for years with the fact that you felt the need to keep that from me.  You used to tell me everything, Sansa.  Then, when you were with Harry, it seemed like you were healing emotionally from Joffrey’s abuse…”

“And Harry just found a different way to hurt me,” Sansa snapped.

“I know that, Sansa! I’m not saying that I think you should be with Harry.  I wanted the two of you to co-parent Lyanna, that’s all.  You shouldn’t be with anyone who doesn’t treat you like a princess.  You’re the sweetest, most loving person I know.  I just don’t want you to waste it on someone who’s going to hurt you again.”

“What makes you think he will hurt me?”

Catelyn was quiet for a moment, seemingly because she didn’t have an answer for that. Eventually, she said, “I’m not saying that I think he will intentionally hurt you, Sansa.  I don’t think he’s a bad man.  Is he a man I would choose for you?  No, not at all.  The two of you come from very different backgrounds.  He’s so much older than you, for one thing.  For another, he grew up believing that his value was in how intimidating he could look and his ability to fight people, if needed.  His brother is notorious for his violence and they grew up in the same house after all.  I don’t want him to suddenly snap and you to be in the way.”

“He isn’t like that,” Sansa said, a little louder than she had meant to. She was getting aggravated though.

“You’ve been with him for a month, Sansa. You don’t know what he’s like.”

“I’ve known his for _years_ , Mom.  I mean, he and I are pushing a decade now since we met.  He never would have hurt me before, and I know he won’t hurt me now.”

“Not physically,” Catelyn continued. “But what about emotionally?  You’ve been through so much with Joffrey and Harry.  I’m just worried that one more bad relationship will have devastating effects.”

“What makes you think that this is a bad relationship?”

Catelyn sighed heavily. “I’m not saying it is.  But what if it doesn’t work out?  What if you’ve jumped into this relationship, so soon after being hurt by Harry, only to be hurt by him as well?  Can you handle that?”

Sansa grew quiet, and recognized the feeling slinking over her was fear. She and Sandor had jumped right in, leaving any caution behind.  She had found herself worrying about things moving so quickly, knowing that it hadn’t been too terribly long since she was crying over Harry.  She had wondered if she was emotionally stable enough to get involved so soon after leaving her former fiancé.  But just as she had done before, Sansa pushed all those doubts down deep and locked them away.

“He makes me happy, Mom. I deserve to be happy.  And I think I make him happy too.”  She turned around and started back towards the door, letting Catelyn know that the conversation was over.  “You don’t have to like it, but you can’t stop it.”


	25. All I can be is your bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Lyanna discuss what she wants for Sevenmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than some of my chapters lately, but hopefully still good...

(Sandor)

Sandor woke up every morning wondering if it was the end of a dream. But she was there every day, along with his best bro, making his life worthwhile.  Sandor had never particularly cared if he had social interaction with people.  He ran a bar, sure, but he was good at it and he made good money.  But he didn’t feel as though he needed human interaction.  He could’ve lived in his cabin, not seeing anyone for weeks and he would have been fine.

He had never really considered himself lonely; but now, any extended period of time without the two women in his life and he found that he missed them fiercely. As the weather cooled and October turned into November, he found himself wondering what to get his ladies for Sevenmas.  He had never bought a Sevenmas gift for anyone, so he was a little lost on where to start.

_Well, there was that one time_ , he remembered, thinking about the time Joffrey had blown off Sevenmas shopping until the last minute and then had no idea what to get his young girlfriend.  He had ordered Sandor to find her something and Sandor had picked out a necklace that she seemed to love.

He had a feeling that she’d probably tossed it after Joffrey nearly had her killed, but he couldn’t blame her for that. She thought Joffrey had picked it out after all.

As for Lyanna, he had an idea of what he wanted to get her, if Sansa wasn’t already planning it. The kid loved to go to the park.  He’d had his eye on a very large, sturdily built wooden swing set that would last her entire childhood.  He’d thought about making one himself, but there was no way he’d be able to build it over several weeks without Lyanna catching on to what he was doing.

Sansa seemed to breathe easier now that her parents knew that they were together. She had told her remaining siblings about it as well.  There hadn’t been any more family functions, but he had a feeling that he would be dragged along to a Sevenmas family party within the next month or so.

One afternoon when he picked Lyanna up from school, he decided to have a chat with her about what to get her mommy for Sevenmas.

“What does your momma want for Sevenmas, bro?”

Lyanna peered at him through his rearview mirror, looking thoughtful. “She likes smelly stuff,” she offered.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Smelly stuff?”

Lyanna nodded emphatically. “Mm-hmm.  Smelly flower stuff from the mall.”

“Like perfume?”

She shook her head, and rubbed at her arms, “The one she rubs on her.”

“Lotion?”

“That’s the one!”

“What else?”

Lyanna shrugged and peered out the window. “I can’t help with everything, San-more.”

He chuckled at that. “What if I need _a lot_ of help?”

Lyanna sighed heavily, as though putting in the effort to help him cost her a lot of energy. “Mommy likes sewing stuff.”

Sandor nodded, “Noted.”

“And lemons.”

“I’m not buying your mom lemons for Sevenmas.”

“You make her sad if you don’t buy lemons.”

“Lemons aren’t really a great Sevenmas gift…”

“It is! It is if she likes lemons.”

Sandor decided to change the subject. “What do _you_ want for Sevenmas?”

Lyanna was quiet for moment. He could see her tapping her little finger against her chin.  She twirled one of her pigtails around her other finger.  “Maybe like a car I can drive.  Ohhh, or a bike like you have!”

“We might can make a little bike happen,” Sandor told her, hoping Sansa didn’t kill him if Lyanna mentioned their conversation. “Anything else?”

“Yep. More coloring books.  New crayons.  I want a doggy shirt for Pupcake to keep her warm.  And I want you to be my daddy.”

Sandor hit the brakes a bit too hard at her last statement, and was sure his heart stopped, and then restarted at a pace that left him a little breathless. He looked back at her in the mirror again, but her expression hadn’t changed.  She was just sitting back there, playing with her hair, swinging her feet, and looking thoughtful.

He didn’t know what to say to that. It was the last thing he had ever expected to hear and it unnerved him.  He cleared the emotion out of his throat and said lowly, “You have a daddy, Lyanna.”

Her little hands and feet stilled. She tried to find his eyes in the rearview mirror.  “I don’t.  Not anymore.”

Sandor inwardly cursed Harry for abandoning his daughter and putting them in this situation. He tried again, “He’s still your dad, lass.  He just hasn’t seen you in a bit.”

Lyanna shook her head. “He not want to be my daddy.  Do you want to be my daddy?”

Sandor gripped the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white, waiting until he had pulled into his driveway before he answered. He unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the car.  When he opened Lyanna’s door, he stood there a minute, studying the big blue eyes and pale blonde hair, the chubby cheeks and the sticky hands from the sucker he had given her.

“I wish I was your daddy, Lyanna,” he told her. “I wish you were my kid.  But you have a daddy.  All I can be is your bro.”

She lowered her eyes and nodded her head as though she understood, though he doubted that she did. He unclasped her buckles and lifted her out of the car seat.  She laid her little head on his shoulder and his chest tightened with too many emotions.  He was angry at the blonde cunt for hurting this child.  He was happy that Lyanna was as crazy about him as he was about her.  He was upset that his little bro was going through this.  He wondered if she missed Harry and she was just trying to replace Harry’s role in her life with Sandor; or was it that Harry had never taken up enough time to truly fill the role, and so she had chosen Sandor to fill that void?

He didn’t know, but it ate away at him as he watched her play with Stranger and Pupcake in his backyard. It was getting dark much earlier now, so he called them in and started supper.  He had been allowing Pupcake to come in too because it didn’t seem fair to him that she was relegated to spending her afternoons alone.  He sent Sansa a text, letting her know that they were about to leave to bring her supper when he heard his front door open.

He bounded from the kitchen to the living room, worried that Lyanna had snuck outside or that some crazy person had come in, but all he found was Sansa standing at his front door, reaching down to scratch Pupcake’s ears. She looked up at him, her eyes were red and he noted tear streaks.

“What is it?” He asked, frozen in his spot, unsure of what would have upset her.

“I quit my job,” she said quietly.

***

(Sansa)

In hindsight, maybe Sansa should have known that working with Baelish would lead to this. There had been too many creepy looks, as though he was trying to undress her with his eyes.  There had been a few too many times that he had touched her arm or shoulder and made her skin crawl.  She had thought a million times that she should just find a new job. 

Baelish had finally pushed her over the edge. She had been standing on a step stool as she dusted the book shelves when she felt a hand at the back of her knee.  Startled, she jumped and then promptly lost her balance.  She was caught before hitting the ground, but was not relieved when she realized it was Baelish’s arms she’d fallen into.  She jumped away from him.

“What-what are you doing?” Sansa stammered, trying to compose herself.

Baelish gave her a slimy smile. “I was just admiring those fine legs, Sansa.  No need to be startled.”

“Professor, I don’t really like being touched…”

His eyes narrowed. “I meant you no harm, Sansa.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “Don’t you think it’s a bit inappropriate to touch your employees?”

“If there is anything inappropriate about it, perhaps you’re the one making it so.”

Sansa heaved a sigh and lifted a trembling hand to her neck, feeling her pulse thump uncontrollably in her throat. “I can’t work for you anymore.”

He tilted his head to the side as though he didn’t understand her. His eyes were cold as he said, “From what I understand, you don’t have much of a choice.  You need this job.  Single mother with a small child… I understand what kind of position you would be in without a job.”

Sansa shook her head. “I have other options.  I’m sorry, but I’m going to put in a notice.”

He stepped forward then, laying his hand on her shoulder, sending chills down her spine. “Maybe that will give you enough time to reconsider.”

In a very uncharacteristic move, Sansa threw his hand away from her. “You know what?  I’ve changed my mind.  No notice.  I’m leaving now.”

Baelish glared at her. “You’re making a mistake, Sansa.  It doesn’t look good for you to walk away from an employer without notice.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t look good for an employer to paw at his employees either.”

She hadn’t waited for a reply, but retrieved her purse and left immediately. The tears hadn’t started until she’d made it to her car, and then she couldn’t stop them.  She was angry, more than anything.  She was angry that Baelish seemed to think that she would put up with that shit because she was in a desperate situation.  She was angry that she hadn’t left his employment sooner.

Sansa spilled all of the details to Sandor in a matter of a few minutes with Lyanna petting her hair and telling her it was okay, though the little girl had no idea what had actually happened. Sansa calmed considerably after getting it off her chest, and Sandor told her supper was ready.  They ate at his house, which was rare, and Sansa realized with a start that she had never seen his bedroom.

As they were cleaning up, she said as much to him.

Sandor nodded, “Aye, I’ve noticed. We’re usually at your house.  But Lyanna is stuck here without her stuff all day, so when you get here, I figure you’d rather be in your own house.”

“I guess I’m just really curious to see what it looks like.”

He shook his head. “Not much to see, Little Bird.   A bed and a chest of drawers.  My bed is bigger than yours, but that’s about the only plus.”

“No photos?”

He gave her a look like he couldn’t believe she’d asked that. “Do you really think I’d have photos of myself?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Well, what about of your family?”

“If I had a photo of Gregor I’d burn it. How’s that for a sliver of justice?”

“What about of your parents, or your sister?”

He loaded the last of the plates into the dishwasher and started it before turning back to her. “Aye, I have photos of Elinor.  Not on the walls.  Probably the only person I have photos of.  Though now there are hundreds of my little bro on my phone.”

“She likes to take selfies on mine, but her aim isn’t great. I’ve got several of just the top of her head or up very close to her eye.”

He chuckled and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. “I love that kid.”

The words stole Sansa’s breath and she felt a fresh sting in her eyes and fought the urge to let new tears fall. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him.  He had said it so casually, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  They stood there for a bit before Sansa felt a little arm thrown around her leg.  She looked down and saw that Lyanna was hugging one of Sansa’s legs with one arm and one of Sandor’s legs with the other. 

Sandor bent down and picked her up, then put his arm back around Sansa, hugging them both at the same time.

“San-more, I need some ice cream,” Lyanna said seriously.

“Me too,” Sansa agreed. “It’s been a long day.”

After having ice cream at Sandor’s house, the three of them and both dogs made their way back to Sansa’s house, where a very sticky Lyanna was immediately put in the tub and bathed. They watched a short movie with Lyanna before tucking her into bed. 

“Will you stay tonight?” Sansa asked as she stood in Lyanna’s doorway, flipping off the overhead light.

Maybe it was still too soon for that. He had denied her the one other time she had asked.  He had only ever spent the whole night when Lyanna was away.  But now, she felt his arms wrap around her waist and his breath tickle her ear as he breathed, “Yes.”


	26. At what point did I start believing nothing lasts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister talk, anxiety and fear, and a Sevenmas party with an uninvited guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I'm tired of looking at it. It's long, but no very eventful? I don't know. It's one of those things where events have to happen to push the story along, but I'm just not entirely satisfied.
> 
> Also, the next few chapters are being HEAVILY edited, so it may be another full week before another chapter is posted :(

(Sansa)

Quitting her job had not been the tragedy that Sansa had worried it would be. She had so many orders coming in for children’s clothes that she found she needed the extra time to stock up.  Not only was she doing well with custom orders, but she had opened an online shop that displayed some of the more popular designs and everything was selling out quickly.

Sansa was making more money doing something she enjoyed, and though she had wanted to do both jobs to ensure that she would have some cushion with her finances, she liked how it opened her schedule up. She was able to take Lyanna to school and pick her up since all of Sansa’s classes were scheduled while Lyanna was at school.  There was no more need for Sandor to babysit her; but he seemed okay with it since now he got to spend more time with the both of them.

Lyanna had always been a happy, bubbly child. Harry being absent from her life hadn’t destroyed her the way Sansa feared that it would.  As carefree as Lyanna had always been, she still underwent a transformation when Sandor was present.  Lyanna, who had always been very attached to Sansa, now had someone else to rely on.  Sandor was her plaything and she thoroughly enjoyed dragging him all over their small house, moving from one activity to another. 

Sandor also taught Lyanna the basics of how to take care of Pupcake when Sansa was busy. Sansa walked into the family room one day to see Sandor supervising her three year old measuring out Pupcake’s dog food and neatly putting it into her food bowl.  The next day, they did the same thing with the water. 

He would also take her outside to let her help him with the leaves he had raked. After allowing her to jump in the piles, he would hold the bag while she stuffed the leaves inside, and then he would show her how to hold the bag while he did the same.  Of course, Lyanna couldn’t do this for long periods of time because she got bored rather quickly, but it warmed Sansa’s heart to know that whatever Sandor was doing, he tried to find a way to involve Lyanna.

Sandor was livid about Petyr Baelish having touched her inappropriately. Every so often, his face would darken and she knew where his thoughts had gone.  He made an off-handed comment about ripping off Petyr’s arm and beating him with the bloody stump, which at first made Sansa laugh, but then compelled her to make sure that Sandor would not, in fact, beat the hell out of Baelish.  He promised he wouldn’t, though it was grudgingly.  Even though Sansa still saw some grouchiness in Sandor, at least when he was dealing with other people, he never showed that side with her daughter; it only reinforced Sansa’s belief that he would make a great dad. 

_Don’t go there,_ she warned herself.  Every time her mind wandered down a road that imagined Sandor as a dad, she felt an overwhelming anxiety overtake her.  Because thinking of Sandor as a dad inevitably led to her imagining him as a dad to her kids. _Their_ kids.  And it was just too much.  She wasn’t in love with him.  She couldn’t be.  It was too soon for that, she knew.  She cared for him deeply and she couldn’t imagine her life right now without him.  But she also didn’t let herself imagine a future with him.  Sansa had been burned two too many times to set herself up for heartbreak.

_I have to act like an adult this time around_ , she reminded herself. _I can’t get swept away._

It was hard though. Because when she looked at him, her heart always seemed to stutter in her chest.  She felt desire for him like nothing she had ever experienced before.  When he kissed her, it was as though everything else fell away and the only thing that mattered was his hands on her skin and his mouth against her own.  And when they were in bed…

Sansa blushed at the thought of what he did to her body. She was currently sitting across from Arya on a lunch date, and it was definitely inappropriate to let her mind go there while listening to her sister rant about her own boyfriend.

“I don’t know what to tell him anymore,” Arya exclaimed, shoving several fries into her mouth, though it didn’t stop her from talking. “He wants kids and marriage and I’m _twenty-one years old_.  If I hear the word marriage again…”  Arya made a face and gave an exaggerated shudder. 

Sansa tried to be supportive of Arya, but her aversion to marriage wasn’t something she fully understood, especially since Gendry was the only person she’d ever had any interest in. Sansa had endured Arya’s bashing of marriage for many years, but she’d always assumed Arya would soften eventually.  As for children, Arya was amazing with Lyanna, so she couldn’t really understand Arya’s distaste for becoming a mother either.

“So is he pressuring you or something?” Sansa asked, trying to catch herself up with the drama.

Arya sighed heavily. “Well, no.  I’ve just…overheard him say stuff.  I know he wants it.  He’s admitted to me that he wants it. 

Sansa was puzzled. “So is he isn’t threatening to break up with you or anything?”

Arya shook her head a bit violently. “NO!  He hasn’t threatened anything.  Have you been listening to me?”  There was a kernel of accusation in her voice.

“Of course,” Sansa replied, hoping Arya hadn’t just told her the exact same thing twice in a row.

Arya huffed. “Look, one day it will all go to shit.  He will want kids and marriage.  I won’t.  Then it will be over.  It’s hard knowing what’s coming.”

“Arya, you’re twenty-one years old. You and Gendry have all the time in the world to deal with this.  Why are you so stressed about it now?”

Arya glared down at her plate, going quiet for longer than Sansa was comfortable with. Finally, she looked up and said, “I’m holding him back, Sansa.  He’s young, but he knows what he wants.”

As she studied Arya’s stricken expression, understanding washed over her.  Instead of making her feel better though, it caused her unease.  “You know it will end, so you’re worried that when it does end, it will hurt worse the longer you put it off?”

Arya’s brows shot up in surprise and she looked at Sansa as though for the first time in their lives, they were on the same page. “ _Yes._ In five years, if this finally ends us, how much worse will it hurt?”

Sansa could only nod, realizing with growing discomfort that she worried about the same things. _At what point did I start believing nothing lasts?_ _I’ve always believed in happily ever after_.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Sansa told her quietly. “There’s no good answer for this.”

Arya pulled her legs up into the booth, crossing them tailor style. She pushed her plate away and dropped her face into her hands.  “I don’t usually stress out. This is your job, not mine.”

“I’m always stressed,” Sansa said. After a moment, she said, “Can I ask you a question without you biting my head off?”

Arya’s grey eyes narrowed. “Doubt it,” she told her.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll risk it.  Why exactly wouldn’t you want to marry him?  I mean, he’s _it_ for you, right?  Like, you know that he’s the only person you’d want to be with, right?”

Arya nodded. “Yeah, he’s it.  No doubt.  It will only ever be him and if that doesn’t work out, I’ll just be alone.”

“Then why are you against marrying him?”

“Because I don’t want to,” Arya said, rather like a petulant child. “Marriage is boring.”

“Arya, you two have been living together for like, three years or something. Are you bored now?”

Arya shook her head.

“How is marriage going to change that then?”

“Because then I’m _tied_ to him, Sansa!  What if I want to just take off?  What if I get tired of living with him at some point?  If we’re just a couple, then I could move out for a while and maybe the space would do us good and we’d still be together…but marriage…”

Sansa could understand her to a point, but it was just so bizarre for Arya to start worrying about this out of the blue. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, then Arya’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’ve always wanted marriage, Sansa. That’s always been you.  But Seven Hells, don’t tell me you’re already making plans to marry the Hound!”

A strange look must have crossed Sansa’s face because Arya calmed down a bit, her brow furrowing at Sansa’s expression. “What?  It was a joke, San…”

“I don’t think about marriage anymore,” Sansa said. For once, she and Arya were of the same mind and she decided to let her know it.  In a small voice, she admitted, “I think I’d just screw it up if I ever got married.”

Arya’s jaw dropped a bit and her eyes widened. It was as though an alien now sat in front of her.  “Clegane’s been dating you a couple of months and he’s already turned you off to marriage?  Wow.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, not him.  I guess…maybe Harry?  I can’t imagine putting myself in that situation again.  Ever.”

“I guess that’s just as well. He doesn’t want to get married either.  Maybe you two won’t have the problems Gendry and I have.  At least you’re on the same page.”

Sansa’s head tilted to the side in confusion. “What…how do you know he doesn’t want to get married?”

Arya looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “I can’t remember how it all happened, but we were at his bar a few months ago, drinking after hours, and somehow we got on the subject of marriage.  Gendry and I were bickering about it, of course, and one of the servers said something about Clegane settling down.  I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something to the effect that he had no interest.  No time for a wife and kids.  I don’t know.  Plus, he doesn’t really seem the type, does he?”

Sansa immediately went on the defensive. “How could you say that?  You’ve seen him with Lyanna!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know he’s great with her, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants all that for himself, right? If he gets tired of Lyanna, he can walk next door to his own house until he’s ready to see her again.  Can’t really do that with your own kids.  Well, unless you’re Harry.”

Something about the whole conversation bothered Sansa. Although she had told Arya that marriage made her uneasy, she was unsettled at the thought that Sandor didn’t want it, wasn’t interested, didn’t have time… He had never walked out when Lyanna became difficult, but then, Lyanna was a pretty mellow child. 

“Look, I need to get to work,” Arya said, trying to shoo Sansa out of the booth.

“Fine. Just let me know if you need to talk again.”

“Might need that,” Arya admitted, biting her lip. “This shit is all I’m thinking about lately.  See you around, sister.”  Arya pulled on her coat and slipped out the door, leaving Sansa to clean up her mess.   _Little asshole_.

As the week wore on, Sansa had to deal with the ups and downs between Sandor and Arya. They were finally planning their trip to the God’s Eye, so Sansa was beyond excited.  But Arya was more emotional than Sansa had ever seen her and much more talkative than she ever had been about her relationship problems.  Sansa was still confused on why this was such an issue.  She couldn’t imagine Gendry actually leaving Arya.  Even though he wanted marriage, Sansa didn’t think he would walk away from her because Arya was opposed to it.  But Arya was clearly worried.  Sansa’s little sister had never dwelled too much on future problems before, so it was a mystery as to why she was doing it now.

The Starks’ Sevenmas party in early December was quickly approaching and Sansa wondered if Gendry would even attend since it seemed like Arya was trying to spend less free time with him, even though they lived in the same house. When Sansa had informed Sandor of the date and time, he had let out a long groan.

“I think I have to work,” he rasped.

She slapped playfully at his arm. “Stop it.  It’s time we attended a family function together.  We’re pushing three months, you know.”

“Aye, I know,” he grumbled. “I’m sure your mother will be overjoyed to have Gendry and I both present at her family holiday gathering.”

“Your old boss will be there too, most likely,” Sansa warned, remembering that Robert Baratheon had an open invitation to all family functions.

Sandor made a face. “That’s great.  I have to deal with a man whose kid I beat bloody.  Why are you making me go to this again?”

Sansa pouted. “Don’t you want to be with me during the holidays?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, but as you’ll remember, we’re going to be together at the God’s Eye for half of the Sevenmas holiday by ourselves.”

She tugged at his beard. “As my boyfriend, it’s required that you attend family gatherings.”  She kissed the tip of his nose.  “Besides, I’m sure there’s a reward for good behavior somewhere in this agreement…”

He perked up at that. “What kind of reward?”

Sansa just raised her eyebrows suggestively and grinned at him.

When the night of the Sevenmas party rolled around, Sansa’s nerves had finally frayed. Even though everyone knew they were together, she still had that fear that there would be some kind of confrontation.  Neither Sandor nor Catelyn was the kind of person who would back down from a challenge.  On top of it all, Lyanna had asked Arya and Gendry to ride with them to King’s Landing.  In Lyanna’s mind, Sansa was sure that her little girl had been excited at the thought of four of her favorite people packed in a car with her.  But Sansa was less than enthused.

Arya, uncharacteristically, jumped all over it, probably to avoid being alone with Gendry.

So Lyanna’s car seat sat in the middle of the back seat between Arya and Gendry, conveniently. Sandor seemed a bit grouchy that he didn’t have his girls all to himself, but no grouchier than normal at least.  Gendry chatted with her and Sandor on the way, but Arya stayed quiet.  Lyanna couldn’t even keep up a conversation with her.  Once they reached the Starks’ house, they piled out, and Sandor and Gendry started grabbing the Sevenmas presents they had brought.

Ned met them at the garage door and Lyanna ran into his arms. Sansa wanted to take Sandor’s hand, but as he was carrying a large load of presents, she settled for sticking back with Arya, whose arms were crossed over her chest as she pouted. Gendry followed behind them with the rest of the presents, his mood not affected by Arya’s as he cheerfully greeted Ned.

They all moved toward the large family room where all the Starks have gathered. Robb had Jeyne in his lap.  Jon sat awkwardly beside him, the girl’s back in his face.  Theon sat on the arm of the couch on Robb’s other side, his hand resting at the waist of a girl Sansa immediately recognized as her childhood friend, Jeyne Poole.

She laughed to herself at the thought that Robb and Theon were so close that now they were dating girls with the same name. Sansa immediately went over to her old friend, greeting her with a warm hug.  Theon pulled her back against him and Jeyne just rolled her eyes.

Bran sat across the room in his wheelchair, quiet as ever, people-watching. Rickon sat at his feet, earbuds stuffed in his ears as his thumbs moved furiously over some hand-held video game.  Arya, clearly in a better mood now that her whole family was together, walked up behind Robb and tousled his auburn curls, making him whine about messing up his hair.  Theon embraced her in a bone-crushing hug, which made her make a face.

“I know you don’t like affection, but you’re getting it anyway,” Theon told her.

Sansa went over to Jon, leaning down to give him a hug, just before Arya decided to tousle his hair as well. Theon squeezed her harder than he had Arya and smacked a kiss on her forehead.  She walked across the room, snapping her fingers in front of Rickon’s face to get his attention.  He looked up and grinned at her, then offered her his fist for a bump.  Sansa rolled her eyes and obliged.  Seconds later, Lyanna had run up to him and offered her fist as well, familiar as she was with the greeting.

Sansa leaned down and hugged Bran, who like Arya, wasn’t overly affectionate. He patted her arm awkwardly before she pulled away. 

“No love for me, Sansa?” Robb called.

“It would be a bit awkward with a girl in your lap,” Sansa said.

Robb’s Jeyne blushed prettily and made to get up, but Robb tightened his grip on her, gave her a mock pout, which she giggled at. _They’re definitely cute together_.  Sansa’s eyes flitted around the room until they landed on the huge form standing in the entryway, arms loaded down with presents.  Ned, thankfully, immediately began relieving him of the arm load and arranging the presents in front of the fireplace.

She heard her dad grumble something about Southron traditions and all the unnecessary trappings. Ned had never celebrated Sevenmas until he had married Catelyn, and even after more than a quarter century, he still didn’t understand the gift exchange. 

Sansa enjoyed buying gifts, even with the stress of having a large family. She had made most of the gifts anyway.  It was the thought that counted.  She strolled toward Sandor, who hadn’t crossed into the room yet, but stood against the door frame of the entryway.

She stuck her hand out and raised her eyebrows. “Come in and stay a while,” she joked.

He grudgingly took her hand and let her lead him further into the crowded family room where they found an unoccupied loveseat. There was some talking and commotion towards the front of the house, and Sansa heard her mother greet people.  Her eyes darted around, noting that all of the kids were already present.  Catelyn must have invited others, which was not out of the ordinary.  Sansa hoped it wasn’t Baelish.  Catelyn came in moments later, her eyes landing on Sandor, and then bouncing away again.  Several people trailed after her:  Robert Baratheon, Myrcella, Tommen, and bringing up the rear, Cersei.  Sansa gasped and grabbed Sandor’s hand.  He squeezed back as his eyes flicked between Cersei and Sansa.

The older woman was beautiful. Her long golden hair was pinned up away from her neck and her spectacular figure was on display in a very tight, very low-cut crimson dress that made her somehow look both over-and under-dressed.

Her emerald eyes fell on Sansa and her top lip twitched into an almost-snarl. Then, when she shifted her eyes to Sandor, she actually bared her teeth for a moment before regaining her composure.  Catelyn, sensing the tension, perhaps trying to be a gracious hostess, asked everyone with a new significant other to introduce them.  The Baratheons sat along the sectional couch that wrapped around the wall as the introductions began.

Robb cleared his throat. “This is Jeyne Westerling.  Some of you met her at Lyanna’s party.  Bran, I know you didn’t.  And she’s pretty important,” he gave her a winning smile as he glanced up at her, making her blush again.

Theon was next. “This is also Jeyne,” he laughed.  “Jeyne Poole.  But you Starks already know her so…”

Theon looked to Sansa expectantly, who shifted in her seat to glance up at her boyfriend. “This is Sandor Clegane.  Most of you already know him as well.  We’ve been dating about three months now.”

Sansa could feel Cersei’s eyes burning into her, but decided to try and ignore it. Robert and Ned had known each other most of their lives, and she knew that there was no way that her parents could turn Cersei away if they invited Robert.  Catelyn was giving Cersei a glare of her own.  There was no love lost between the two women. 

Sansa stood and told Sandor she would return shortly. She dashed off to the kitchen, her throat suddenly dry.  She rummaged in the fridge, thinking it was probably not late enough in the day for wine. 

_If I start drinking now, I’ll be plastered by the time this is over with_. 

She found bottled water, but as she stood and closed the fridge, she became aware she was not alone. She turned slowly to see Cersei standing on the other side of the kitchen, green eyes ablaze and a fake smile on her lips.

“You and Clegane?” She asked Sansa softly.

Sansa tried to smile back and nodded, unable to speak. She twisted the top off her water bottle and tossed some down her throat, hoping it would take away the croak she was feeling rise up in her.

“How long has that been going on?”

_Didn’t I literally just say three months?_ Sansa thought in exasperation.  She cleared her throat.  “Three months, Mrs. Baratheon.”

“Oh, really? Hmm.  I know that’s what you said, but I didn’t know if that was for you parents’ benefit.  Strange, isn’t it?  The two of you had a relationship with Joff, now you have a relationship with one another?”

“Well, I was with Harry for a long time, if you’ll remember.”

A cruel smile curved her lips. “Oh, yes.  I didn’t know if perhaps Clegane contributed to that break up.”

Sansa just shook her head, completely unnerved by this conversation.

Cersei tilted her head as she studied Sansa. “Hmm.  It must be hard, little dove, going from someone as handsome as Harry to…. _that_.  It makes one wonder what the draw is.”

Sansa heard the plastic of her water bottle crackle in protest, then realized she was squeezing it in anger. She didn’t dignify that with a response, but Cersei wasn’t done.

“You must like danger, little dove. I know you’re aware of what he’s capable of.  Shocks me that you’re not only okay with it, but are embracing it.”

“Yes, I’m aware of what he’s capable of,” Sansa said quietly. “He’s capable of protecting me and saving my life.  He’s capable overlooking the fact that I was a spoiled brat.  And,” Sansa added, bracing herself for Cersei’s guaranteed anger at her next statement, “I know what Joffrey was capable of as well.”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed and she stalked toward Sansa, stopping two feet away from her. Sansa was secretly pleased that Cersei wasn’t tall like Sansa, so she had to look up at her.  “You’re the worst thing that happened to Joffrey,” Cersei hissed.  “Go on and pretend that Joff was the only problem.  But you need to take a look at yourself.  You messed up a bright future with Joff.  Then _somehow_ , you messed up a bright future with that dear boy, Harrold Hardyng.  Perhaps you won’t ruin this for yourself though.  He’ll likely ruin it for you.  The two of you are nothing but a couple of messes.”  She smiled nastily.  “The break-up should be entertaining to hear about.  It’s inevitable when it concerns the two of you.  Enjoy yourself while you can.”  She turned on her heel and strolled back to the living room, leaving Sansa anxious and angry and wanting to rip Cersei’s golden hair out at the root.

When Sansa was finally able to calm down and return to the family room, Ned had already started handing out presents. Sansa avoided Cersei’s eyes when she could, but every once in a while, she would feel her gaze.  When she would glance at her, there would be a mean smirk on her face, as if she knew some dirty secret that she refused to share.  Sandor effectively ignored the Baratheons for the most part, only answering Robert when he outright asked how his former security guard was doing.  Strangely, Robert didn’t seem to have any hard feelings toward Sandor or Sansa.

It wasn’t their fault Joffrey was dead, after all, though Cersei would have blamed her if she could’ve found a way, Sansa was sure.

After gifts, everyone gathered in the large dining room for an early supper. Lyanna insisted on sitting between Sansa and her “bro”.  On Sansa’s other side, Arya plopped down, choosing a seat away from Gendry, who had grudgingly sat next to his father when Robert had insisted.  Sansa took small comfort in the fact that this made Cersei’s features twist in distaste.  It seemed Robert was growing closer to Gendry than he had ever been to Joffrey.  Even Tommen and Myrcella, who were close in age to Arya and Bran, seemed to like their half-brother.  In fact, Tommen sat on Gendry’s other side when Arya decided not to sit beside him, and spoke with Gendry about his first semester of college.

As Sansa helped her mother clean up after the meal, the doorbell chiming caught everyone’s attention. Sansa glanced curiously at her mother.  “Were you expecting any other guests?” _Not Baelish, not Baelish, not Baelish_.

Catelyn shook her head, looking as bewildered as Sansa felt. Because the majority of the party was talking and laughing loudly in the family room, Sansa offered to answer the door.  She dried off her wet hands and smoothed down her sweater dress as she walked through the foyer.  She didn’t even think to peak outside before throwing the door open.

Her mouth popped open. Then she hissed, “What in the seven hells are _you_ doing here?”

Harry stood on the front step, his eyes wide. He held two boxes in his hands and tried to push them into Sansa’s hands, who refused to take them.  “I, uh, brought these for Lyanna,” he said, turning his head to glance around the driveway.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s our Sevenmas party,” Sansa said through gritted teeth. “You _weren’t_ invited.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly, realization dawning on him about why there were so many cars in the driveway. “I didn’t know I was interrupting…I…didn’t you guys used to have this the week of Sevenmas, not the week before?”

“It doesn’t matter! It was moved around.  What do you want?”

He indicated the presents again and shifted nervously on his feet. “I was just going to drop these off with your parents.  I figured you didn’t want to see me, but I got Lyanna a little something…”

The car door opened behind Harry and he spun around as a stick-thin woman with platinum blonde hair stepped out of his sports car. Sansa gasped.  She had seen that woman before.

“Is that…?”

“Oh, hi, Sansa!” Sansa and Harry’s former therapist waved from the passenger side of Harry’s car.

“You…you…are here, at my parents’ home, with Dr. Hudson?? You’re dating our therapist?!”  Sansa gave him a shove and he tripped back a bit, just shy of falling down the front steps.

“Sansa, it’s not what you think!”

“Oh, when it is it _ever?_ ”  She screeched at him, taking the boxes from him and flinging them to the ground.

At this point, Sansa must have drawn attention because she could hear several pairs of footfalls coming her way. She didn’t even turn around as she continued to glare at Harry.  Moments later, Ned, Sandor, Robb, and Theon had spilled out onto the porch and were all giving Harry dangerous looks.

At the sight of Sandor, Harry’s mouth popped open in indignation. “Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Harrold,” Ned said calmly, belying the anger flashing in his grey eyes. “You need to leave.”

Harry nodded, his eyes dropping away from Ned in shame.

“You must have some huge balls to show up here today,” Theon said, stepping up close to Harry, invading his space.

Sandor’s eyes were on the woman as she shifted nervously from foot to foot. Sansa was watching her too, and as she did, her eyes filled with tears.  Sandor didn’t miss it, and trailed his finger along the tear track on her cheek.

“Come on,” he rasped, sliding his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers. “Let’s go back inside.”

Sansa let him pull her inside and didn’t even try to stop the tears.


	27. He does seem to care about you, even if he is a brute.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets some girl time after the emotionally exhausting encounter with Harry. 
> 
> Sandor and Lyanna keep on being cute.

(Sandor)

Sansa disappeared upstairs with Arya and Jeyne, the one who had accompanied the Greyjoy lad, after her encounter with Harry.  It left Sandor to fend for himself, which didn’t exactly make him uncomfortable as he had been in his share of awkward situations with Joffrey, but it did leave him worrying about Sansa.  He had watched Cersei follow her into the kitchen and had wanted to intervene, but Ned had engaged him in conversation about his God’s Eye cabin and Sansa had returned before he could rescue her. 

Now he stood on the back patio as Lyanna played with Ned’s two hunting dogs, wondering what exactly was said before he’d rushed outside to Sansa.

He had heard her voice rise in anger and had pushed away from his seat the same time Ned did.  Robb hopped up a second later to join them and Theon must have quickly followed.  He had expected to find Baelish standing on the door step and thought of making good on his threat to rip his arms off.  As soon as he’d seen that blonde cunt standing on the steps in front of Sansa, he’d seen red.  He might have hit him if he hadn’t been behind Ned, who made it clear that Harry wasn’t welcome. 

Sandor had expected Sansa to be mad, for sure, but her behavior now was confusing him.  Anger was one thing, crying into a pillow on a bed from your childhood was quite another.  He couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly so torn up.  The switch from anger to misery had happened as she had watched the leggy blonde that Harry had brought along. 

_Is she jealous?_

The thought that Sansa might be jealous of Harry’s new girlfriend made _Sandor_ feel a spike of his own jealousy.  What did it matter that Harry had a girlfriend?  The blonde cunt was allowed to move along just as Sansa had.  Hells, he had moved along while he was still involved with Sansa, so what was the big deal now?

_Unless she hasn’t moved on_ , an unwelcome voice whispered in his ear.

“San-more, where Mommy go?”  Lyanna asked as she endured the insistent licking of one of her pappy’s hounds.

“Didn’t feel well,” he grunted.  He resisted the urge to pull out his phone and shoot her a text.

The patio door slid open and Gendry stepped out, a bottle of beer clutched in his hand.  “Any word on what’s going on up there?”

Sandor shook his head. 

Gendry was quiet for minute, then said, “Arya has been weird lately…”

Sandor shot him a look that cut him off.  “You really trying to talk to me about this shit?”

“Language!”  Lyanna squealed.

Gendry shrugged.  “I didn’t know if she talked to Sansa and Sansa talked to you…”

“Nope,” Sandor said.

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “She’s been distant…”

Sandor was about to turn to him and tell him to keep his relationship problems to himself when the patio door opened and Robb stepped out, peeking behind him to make sure he wasn’t followed.  He smiled at Gendry.

“So did you bring the, uh…” Robb raised his brows.

Gendry nodded, “Aye, it’s safe.”  He patted the pocket of his dress shirt.  “You want it now?”

Robb turned back to look through the patio door, then looked back at Gendry.  “Probably not now.  Or any time today really.  Too much going on with Sansa right now.”  He slid back into the house and Sandor found himself staring at Gendry.

“What?”

“Was that some sorry excuse for a drug deal?”

Gendry shrugged.  “Not my business to tell, Boss.”

The air was growing cooler, so Sandor convinced Lyanna that she needed to go inside to spend time with her family.  He sat on the sectional and watched her chatter away to Robb’s Jeyne and wondered what Sansa was up to.

***

(Sansa)

Sansa laid on her king-size bed in her old room, Arya on one side and Jeyne on the other.  They’d never be able to do this in her full-size bed at her house.  There wasn’t even enough space in her tiny bedroom for a king-size bed. 

“This is almost like old times,” Jeyne remarked.

“Except Arya wouldn’t be here,” Sansa said.

“I wouldn’t be here now if I could help it,” Arya said.  “But Gendry’s downstairs so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get away.”

At that, Sansa leaned up on her elbows and pinned her sister with her glare.  “What’s going on between you two?”

Arya closed her eyes as though she had decided to take a nap.  “I’ve already told you.”

Jeyne leaned up as well.  “Gendry?  He’s the handsome one with the blue eyes, yes?  Arya!  Girl, you did well for yourself!”

Arya’s eyes shot open and she threw a nasty look Jeyne’s way.  “Yes, I did quite well for myself considering I have a horse face.  Right?”

“Arya,” Sansa groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Jeyne frowned, color flooding her cheeks.  “I’m sorry, Arya.  I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just, he’s very handsome and I was just trying to compliment your taste.  And…you must know I only said those things because I was…”

“A mean little shit?”  Arya offered.  Sansa gave her sister’s arm a good pinch.

“Yes,” Jeyne said.  “But also, because I was jealous of you.”

Now Arya sat up, looking at Jeyne as though she was lying.  “I’m not an idiot, Poole.”

“I know,” Jeyne said.  “That’s part of the reason I was jealous.  You’re smart, and tough, and you don’t back down from a challenge.  And you’re pretty too.  I was looking for any flaw I could find and so I latched onto a weak one.”

Arya stared at her as if she couldn’t believe the words coming from her mouth.  Jeyne blushed again, but didn’t look away.

“I’m jealous of you as well,” Sansa offered, turning to her sister.  “For the same reasons.”

Arya rolled her eyes.  “You two have your heads up your arses.”

“So,” Jeyne said, “What’s going on with Gendry?”

Arya flopped back down onto the bed and covered her eyes with her arm. 

“Gendry wants to get married and she doesn’t,” Sansa said quietly.  Arya groaned, clearly not thrilled that Sansa had spilled this information.

“Oh, well, that’s unfortunate,” Jeyne said awkwardly, clearly not knowing what else to say.  “Uh, has he given you an ultimatum?”

“No,” Arya groaned again; then after a moment, added, “It’s worse.”

That statement confused Sansa.  She and Jeyne shared a bewildered look.  Sansa tried to pry Arya’s arm away from her face, but her sister just rolled over, putting her back to them.

“Good to know that you’re still difficult,” Jeyne teased.

“Arya, what could possibly be going on?  Seriously, you can’t come up here and act dramatic about the whole thing and then _not_ fill us in!”  Sansa gave her sister’s behind a hardy smack, which disappointingly, hardly startled her.

“Uhhhh, fine!”  Arya tossed until she had turned to face Sansa and Jeyne, then said, “Gendry is going to propose.  I don’t know when or how, but he’s going to do it.  I found the thrice-damned ring!  It will probably be in public.  I guess he thinks that if he does it in front of people, I won’t say no.  Can you believe him?  After I’ve told him that I don’t want it, he’s still doing this!”

“Oh,” Sansa said, a feeling of dread creeping into her stomach.  She hadn’t imagined that Gendry would stoop low enough to trap Arya in such a way. 

Arya tugged the pillow out from under her head and covered her face.  Sansa had no idea what to say to make Arya feel any better about the situation.  But it was clear to her now why Arya was avoiding him, even while riding in the same vehicle.  It made sense why she didn’t want to be downstairs when she had the opportunity to hide out.

Jeyne cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from Arya.  “So, are _you_ feeling better?” 

Sansa nodded.  “I’m fine.  I can’t believe he showed his face here.  And _with her_!”

Jeyne nodded.  “You know, my mum used Dr. Hudson for a few sessions and always said she got a strange vibe from her.”

“Was she trying to sleep with your dad?”  Sansa bit out.

“I hope not.”

“Harry needs his cock and bollocks snipped off anyway,” Arya chimed in.

“Is that your answer to everything?”  Sansa asked, remembering Arya’s suggestion to do the same to Robert Baratheon.

“When men act like idiots, it’s usually because of their cock,” Arya said, removing the pillow from her face.

“I feel so betrayed all over again,” Sansa said, hating the feelings of distrust and insecurity that were now weighing her down.

“Gods, you better hope he didn’t sleep with one of your friends too,” Arya said.  She gave Jeyne a look.  “You haven’t had a go at him, have you, Poole?”

Jeyne’s look of outrage made Arya laugh.  Sansa just rolled her eyes.

“Hopefully Margaery hasn’t had a go at him,” Arya said, more seriously this time. 

Sansa felt her face fall at the realization that Margaery may not be above that.

Jeyne scolded Arya.  “You have no filter and no tact!”

Arya just shrugged.  “Don’t be mad at me.  I didn’t sleep with the blonde cunt.”

Sansa snorted a laugh.  “You’ve been hanging around Sandor too long.  That’s what he calls him.”

“It’s an appropriate nickname,” Arya sniffed.  “The Hound _does_ give the best nicknames.”

“I agree.  Wolf-bitch fits you perfectly.”

“How is that going by the way?”  Jeyne cut in, curiosity clear on her face as she said, “He’s so tall and muscular.  I bet he wanted to rip Harry’s head off.  You must feel safe with him around.”

Sansa was unable to stop the grin that overtook her face.  “It’s going great.  If only I hadn’t wasted all the time with Harry and found Sandor sooner.”

“He seems crazy about Lyanna,” Jeyne commented.

“He is,” Sansa confirmed. 

Jeyne lay back down and propped up on her elbow.  “So do you ever think about if he’d be a good dad?”

Arya’s ears seemed to perk up at that and she sat up as well, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

“I suppose I do at times.  Sometimes I can’t stop myself from thinking about it because he is so _good_ with her.”  Sansa met Jeyne’s eyes and realized her friend may be getting the wrong idea.  “But the truth is that I don’t know if he’ll ever be a father.”

Arya gave her an incredulous look.  “He may as well be Lyanna’s dad.  It’s not as though Harry is filling that role.”

Sansa breathed heavily.  “What I mean is, I haven’t really thought far enough ahead about a future with him to warrant these thoughts of him being a dad.  I’m enjoying the present, you know?”

Jeyne looked at her as if she didn’t know her and gave a minute shake of her head. 

“What?”  Sansa asked.

“Well, it’s just that you’ve always been the dreamer.  You always wanted a family and a husband and a fairytale romance.  To hear you say you haven’t thought about any of it…”

“Things change,” Sansa said, a little too shortly. 

The three of them grew quiet after that.  They lay back down and Sansa was comforted knowing that she was not alone, even if none of them said anything.  These days, it seemed she treasured the quiet more than she ever had. 

There was a knock at the door and Catelyn poked her head in to check on them.  Arya and Jeyne clearly sensed Cat’s desire to speak to Sansa, so they promptly left.  Catelyn sat at the end of the bed.

“Are you all right?”  Her mother asked.

Sansa nodded.  “I’m fine.  I just want him to go away.  I know I’m supposed to be mature and civil to him, but I don’t want to be.”

“He’s hardly being civil either,” Catelyn commented.  “Bringing that woman here.  Your father told me that he rode over here with your therapist.”  Catelyn’s eyes flashed angrily.  “I know I’ve encouraged you to be kind to him, but I also understand that he’s making it difficult.”

“Mom, he hasn’t even tried to contact Lyanna since her _birthday_ ,” Sansa told her.  “Three months!”

Catelyn nodded.  “I never thought he would completely abandon her.  He always seemed so proud of her.”

“Yeah, as long as he doesn’t have to do any of the dirty work.  Honestly though, I’m glad it was him.”

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to Sansa’s and she looked at her curiously.  “Why are you glad?”

Sansa swallowed back her fear and said, “I was worried it was Baelish.”

Catelyn’s brow furrowed.  “You have an issue with Petyr?”

Sansa sat up and gave her mother a serious look.  “Mom, he’s a creep.  I-I quit my job…”

At that, Catelyn’s eyes went wide, and then narrowed again as her lips pursed.  “Sansa, he may be over-friendly, but quitting your job…”

“ _No_ , Mom, listen!  Please just listen to me.  I could handle the looks even though it made me uncomfortable.  But the night I quit, he touched me and when I told him that it made me uncomfortable, he blew it off like it was _my fault_!”

Catelyn’s mouth dropped open and her hand went to her necklace, tugging at it being one of her nervous habits.

Sansa continued, “He ran his hand up my leg when I was standing on a stool.  I told him I was going to put in my notice, but I just couldn’t be in there any longer.  It was a few weeks ago and I should have told you sooner, but…”

“But you don’t feel comfortable talking to me anymore?” Catelyn guessed.

Sansa sighed heavily.  “I just didn’t want to worry you or make it seem like I was being dramatic or…”

“Sansa,” Catelyn cut her off.  “Petyr is a life-long friend, it’s true.  But you’re my daughter.  I know that I brushed off some of the comments your father made about him, but I wouldn’t brush off _this_.  Did you report him to the head of the department?”

Sansa shook her head.  “I just wanted out of there, Mom.”

Catelyn huffed and looked a little aggravated.  “He should face consequences, Sansa.”

“As long as I never have to see him again, I’ll be fine.  I don’t want to open up a can of worms that will require me to be anywhere near him.  Anyway, I suppose Harry showing up is _still_ better than Baelish showing up.”

Catelyn nodded.  “Too true, because if you had told your father about this and then he showed up…well, Ned may have gone to jail.”

“Sandor threatened to rip his arms off and beat him with the bloody stumps,” Sansa said, then immediately regretted it, given what her mother thought of Sandor.  She quickly added, “It was just a joke, Mom.”

Catelyn gave her a small smile.  “He does seem to care about you, even if he is a brute.  Come on,” she stood form Sansa’s bed.  “Let’s get back downstairs.  It’s almost dessert time.”

When they returned downstairs, Ned was in the process of calling everyone into the dining room, offering various desserts.  Sandor wasn’t there, so Sansa went to the family room to find him.  He was sitting up on the couch, his head tipped against the back, sleeping soundly.  And there, in the crook of his arm, slept Lyanna. 

Her hand went to her heart as she watched them.  Lyanna was cuddled into Sandor’s side, drool leaking out onto her chin.  Clutched in her right hand was a wad of Sandor’s shirt, as though she were holding onto him in her sleep to make sure he didn’t move.  Sandor’s long arm was wrapped around Lyanna’s little belly, and in Lyanna’s left hand, she held onto the index finger of Sandor’s left hand.  She was missing a shoe, which Sansa noticed a moment later was sitting on Sandor’s thigh.

Sansa went to the nearby linen closet and pulled a quilt out.  She covered them with it, pressing a kiss to Lyanna’s forehead, and then to Sandor’s as well.  It was crazy, really, how close the two had become.  Her heart twisted painfully at the thought that Lyanna would never have this with her father.  Harry had never cuddled with her.  But here was Sandor, letting her cling to him like he was the largest teddy bear in Westeros.

Sansa left them to their nap and went to join her parents and siblings for some pie.

***

(Sandor)

When he woke, he was the only one left in the family room except for his little bro snuggled into his side.  She was snoring softly and he looked down to see that she had drooled all over his shirt and his hand.  He couldn’t quite bring himself to care. 

Sandor managed to dig his phone out of his pocket without disturbing Lyanna and saw that it was after 8:00.  He needed to get home and feed Stranger, whose supper was already quite late.  He carefully removed his hand from Lyanna’s grip and stretched his arms over his head.  He could hear voices, likely coming from the dining room, but the absence of a loud, steady chatter let him know that people had likely already left.

He heard the shuffle of feet and looked toward the entryway to see Arya, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted to the side in amusement.

Good thing she hadn’t seen him holding hands with his bro.

“Aren’t you adorable?” Arya teased.

“Where’s Sansa?”  He asked, choosing to ignore Arya’s goading.

She jerked her thumb to her right.  “She’s in the kitchen having a glass of wine with Mom.  Dad and Gendry are out on the patio, talking about gods-know-what,” she spat out, seeming irritated for some unknown reason.

At the sound of his voice, Sansa was clearly alerted to him being awake and appeared behind Arya, smiling softly at him.

“Hey, Little Bird,” he said, sounding sleepy even to his own ears.

“Hey there.  Are you ready to go?  You’ve been asleep for a while now.”

Sandor nodded, then carefully scooped Lyanna into his arms and stood with her.  

“I’ll go ahead and take her to the truck.”

Sansa nodded, “I’m just going to tell mom and dad that we’re leaving.”

“Grab Gendry, will you?” Arya said, following Sandor out the door.

Sandor wasn’t sure what her problem was or why she wasn’t telling her parents good-bye, but he was mildly annoyed with her.  He remembered Gendry mentioning that she was acting strange and now Sandor was seeing it too. 

Sansa and Gendry came out a few moments later and piled into the truck. Arya stuck her ear phones in and tuned everything out.  Gendry nodded off to sleep quickly, his and Lyanna’s snores almost in sync.

“You know,” Sansa said, looking over at him.  “You two are pretty adorable.”

He shook his head, knowing she meant him and his bro.  “She’s adorable.  She just makes me look good.”

“She loves you,” Sansa said quietly.

Sandor cleared his throat and nodded.  “I’m fond of her too.”  Honestly, the kid owned him.  She knew it too.  He would do anything she asked of him.  He couldn’t tell Sansa how desperately he wished that Lyanna was his.  He didn’t mention that Lyanna and Sansa both had filled something in him that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.  It would’ve been wrong to tell her that he wished Harry would drop off the face of the earth that way there would never be any question as to who filled the role of papa in her life.

Sansa reached across the console and grasped his hand, running her thumb along his index finger.  He squeezed her fingers, still astonished that he _liked_ all this physical contact she was subjecting him to.  But something about Sansa’s reaction to Harry and his lady friend niggled at the back of his brain.  Something about the whole encounter seemed off and he couldn’t put his finger on it.  He didn’t want to bring it up either because he was worried he might act irrationally if Sansa revealed that she in fact was hurt by Harry dating someone.

So he let the thought go, but held onto her hand all the way home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So updates have slowed down, and I'm sorry! I'm struggling a lot with chapters 28 and 29. Chapter 28 has been re-written about 3 times and chapter 29 is in a re-write process now. I know where I'm going, but I'm struggling with how I want to get there. So there's a very real chance that updates will slow down even more...
> 
> Hopefully I can get myself out of this funk and write something I don't absolutely hate without it taking several weeks :(


	28. Did you ever want children, Sandor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabin excursion begins

(Sansa)

The week after her family’s Sevenmas celebration, Sansa packed a bag for Lyanna and one for herself.  Initially, Sansa had planned on getting a babysitter for Lyanna, but she hated to leave her, and Sandor seemed to want her to accompany them to the God’s Eye, so their trip for two had turned into a trip for three.  Sansa, though she had wanted to get Sandor alone, was happy she had decided to let Lyanna come along.  Whenever Sansa left Lyanna with a sitter, she always ended up missing her terribly. 

Sansa was excited to be getting away with the two of them.  Being a few hours away from the normally busy days and stress of real life certainly had its appeal.  And though it wouldn’t be exactly a romantic getaway since Lyanna was with them, she was ready to get several uninterrupted days with her boyfriend.  Although, some of the looks he gave her when he thought she wasn’t looking were…curious.  It was as though he thought if he looked at her hard enough, he could crack open her skull and read her thoughts.

But Sansa could tell that there were things he wanted to say.  She didn’t know how she knew or what it was that was on his mind, but it inexplicably made her uneasy.  At one point in the last week, he had mentioned Harry in passing rather than asking any specific, but Sansa had a rare moment of impatience where she informed him in a clipped tone that she didn’t even want to hear Harry’s name.  It wasn’t like Sandor to initiate some in-depth conversation about feelings, and for once, Sansa wanted to keep it that way.

The hurt and betrayal she had experienced seeing Harry with someone who was supposed to be a trusted professional had not faded much.  It wasn’t as though Dr. Hudson was someone who had been a lifelong friend of Sansa’s or someone she knew all that well on a personal level, but the fact that Sansa had put her trust in someone about her failing relationship who was now profiting from said failed relationship bothered her to no end.  And it was humiliating, though she had eventually let Sandor know who the woman was who had stepped out of Harry’s car.  Understanding dawned on his face and he seemed to relax a little, though Sansa wasn’t sure why.  She hadn’t even wanted to talk to him about it at all.  The embarrassment was just too much.

_I can’t trust anyone_ , she thought, not for the first time.

She knew that was a dramatic way of thinking and probably a little defensive, but she also felt she was waiting for one more person to back-stab her.  Not that she thought that person would be Sandor, but his potential for hurting her was growing by the way, and her mother’s words came back to her.

_“You’ve been through so much with Joffrey and Harry.  I’m just worried that one more bad relationship will have devastating effects... what if it doesn’t work out?  What if you’ve jumped into this relationship, so soon after being hurt by Harry, only to be hurt by him as well?  Can you handle that?”_

“Get out of my mind,” Sansa growled under her breath.  Pupcake looked up at her curiously from her place on the bed, her little head tilting in confusion; poor pup was likely thinking Sansa had gone crazy since she was talking to herself.

Over the last few days, Sansa seemed to be at war with herself.  Her feelings for Sandor made her feel like she was about to be pushed into the deep end and drowned in something beautiful.  But she was desperately clinging to dry land, to the safety that having complete control brought her.  She was _scared_.  She wasn’t too ashamed to admit it, after everything she’d been through, but she was torn between thinking her caution was warranted and thinking that it was holding her back.

Lyanna burst into her room just as she had finished packing her toiletry bag and scrambled up onto the bed to lay a kiss on Pupcake’s head.

“Mommy, where San-more at?  He is late!”

“He’s not late, princess.  You’re just really excited,” Sansa tugged at one of Lyanna’s blonde pigtails.

“What his Sevenmas gift?”

“Oh, I got him a knife,” Sansa said, a bit lamely.  It was a nice knife and she knew he’d appreciate it, but it seemed like such a small gift compared to what he was likely to have bought them.

“I make him a picture,” Lyanna said. 

“That’s nice, baby.  I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Lyanna scratched at Pupcake’s ears, and then the puppy rolled over on her back, clearly wanting her belly rubbed, so Lyanna complied.  She was quiet for a few moments as Sansa made sure all of their stuff was together.  They would be leaving shortly.

“Mommy?” Lyanna’s voice sounded quieter than normal, and it alerted Sansa.  She turned back to her daughter, giving her full attention.

“What is it?” Sansa dropped down on the bed and studied Lyanna’s little face, which looked rather contemplative for a three year old.

“Can San-more be my daddy?” Bright blue eyes turned to meet Sansa’s and she saw an earnestness in them that was surely uncharacteristic for a toddler.

Words didn’t come immediately, and typical of a three year old, Lyanna’s face displayed mild impatience as she waited for Sansa to answer her.

“He can’t,” Sansa said, almost choking on the words as she felt something rise in her throat.

“Why?”

“Lyanna, you have a daddy.”

Her full bottom lip poked out in a pout.  “Can I have two?”

“That’s not how it works, baby.  We don’t get to choose our parents.”

“Can I call him daddy?”

Sansa took a deep breath and shook her head.  “No, Lyanna.  You can’t.  I’m sorry…”

“Don’t say sorry,” Lyanna grouched, her little face suddenly a storm cloud that, oddly enough, reminded Sansa of Sandor. 

“But I _am_ sorry,” Sansa insisted.  “I know you love Sandor, baby.  He’s a great bro.  You’re lucky to have a friend like him.”

“Does he love me too?”

“Yes, baby.  I know he does.  You’re very important to him.”

“I wish he was my daddy,” she said, staring down at a spot on the bed.

_Sometimes I wish he was too_ , Sansa thought.

Before anything else could be said, the heavy scuffle of boots alerted both of them that the subject of their conversation had arrived.  He appeared in the hallway and leaned against the door frame of Sansa’s room.

“Ready, ladies?”

Lyanna jumped off the bed and ran to tackle him around the legs, as was her custom.  Pupcake sat up and huffed, clearly miffed that Lyanna was no longer rubbing her belly.  Once Sandor managed to detach his bro from his legs, he collected Sansa’s bags and they made their way out to Sandor’s truck.

Lyanna’s car seat had already been switched over and it sat in the middle of the back seat.  Stranger sat in the driver side backseat, his head hanging out the window and his long tongue lolling out of his mouth.  Sansa loaded Lyanna in on her side, and the little girl shrieked with delight when Stranger gave her a friendly lick on the face.  Pupcake, seemingly too proper to sit in the back seat, jumped up on the middle console, excited to be able to see out the front of the car.

The drive to Sandor’s cabin would over four hours, so Sansa had made sure to charge Lyanna’s tablet in case she was bored.  It was the furthest distance she had ever traveled and she mentioned as much to Sandor.

“She’s never been to Winterfell then?”  He asked her.

Sansa shook her head.  “No, she hasn’t.  It’s a shame really.  I haven’t been in years and I still consider it home.  I’ve just never really had the means to get her there.  A car ride is out of the question and I can’t afford a plane ticket right now.”  She glanced back to look at Lyanna.  “I’ll take her one day.  Every kid needs to know about their roots, right?  May even move back up there someday.”

Sandor nodded, but didn’t say anything else about it. Sansa dozed on and off after they exited onto the King’s Road, letting the quiet music Sandor played and the noise of the road lull her to sleep.  When she woke up, she could hear Lyanna’s soft snoring, accompanied by Stranger’s.  Pupcake, at some point, had hopped off the console and planted herself in Sandor’s lap and he was muttering something to her about “spoiled rat dogs”.

Sansa stretched and blinked, adjusting her eyes to the fading light of the late afternoon.  They were no longer on a highway, but on a two-lane road, forests on either side.  There were no cars in front of or behind them.

“Are we close?” She asked.

Sandor nodded.  “We’re just a few minutes away now.”

A couple of miles later, Sandor made a turn down a gravel road that seemed never-ending.  Occasionally, Sansa would see a cabin tucked away in the woods, but she knew none of those belonged to Sandor.  His cabin was directly on the lake.  The gravel road ended and turned to dirt, and Sansa was glad Sandor had a four-wheel drive truck because the likelihood of possibly getting stuck in the huge ruts in the road increased the further they went. 

It grew darker as they drove and Sandor flipped on his head lights.  The trees began to thin out somewhat and the road opened up to a stretch of land where several small cabins dotted the shore, overlooking the dark waters of the God’s Eye.  There were about five cabins, ranging in size from what looked to be a shack to an elegant chalet, and though they were all visible from the road, they were far enough apart that privacy wouldn’t be an issue. 

Sandor drove past the smallest that looked like a shack and Sansa let out a relieved sigh.  He didn’t miss it though.  He grinned at her from across the car, though she could barely see it in the dying light.

“What, you didn’t want to stay in a fishermen’s shack?” 

Sansa shrugged, “I wouldn’t complain, but it barely looks big enough for you, much less the three of us and two dogs.”

“Well, the six bedroom chalet doesn’t belong to me either, but I think I have a happy medium.”  He pointed up ahead as he slowed the truck to pull into a narrow driveway.  The headlights hit the cabin and Sansa smiled in delight.

It was a wooden structure with a wrap-around porch, a brick chimney poking out of the roof.  When the truck stopped, Sansa quickly leapt out, retrieving a yawning Lyanna from her seat.  She followed Sandor, eager to see the rest of the cabin.  She could tell by the outside that it was well-maintained.  She followed Sandor into the cabin after he’d unlocked the door, the dogs followed right at her heels.  When he flipped on the lights, Sansa made a delighted noise in her throat.

There was a stone fireplace to her right, in front of which sat a small, leather sectional, which Stranger wasted no time in hopping on and making himself comfortable.  To her left, a billiards table and an air hockey table sat a few feet apart.  This must have been for Sandor’s co-owner because he’d told her himself that he didn’t bring guests here.

Beyond the main living area, Sansa could see the small dining room and kitchen off to the back left.  In front of her was a set of stairs which led to a loft. 

“There’s a bed and a bathroom up there,” he said, following her eyes.  He walked toward the dining room and flipped on another light.  “The main bedroom is this way,” he told her, indicating a door she hadn’t noticed in the dark. 

“The bedroom spans most of the back of the house.  It’s connected to the main bathroom, which also has an entrance on the other side near the game tables.”  He took her hand and led her through the dining area and through the kitchen.  There was a glass door that opened onto the back porch.  He flipped on the porch light, illuminating a small stretch of the yard, which there wasn’t much of, as the cabin sat directly on the water.

At the view, Lyanna squirmed until Sansa let her down and she pressed her little face against the glass door as she looked out at the water.  Sansa noticed that there were no rails on the back porch, partly due to the fact that the swing hung from the top of the porch and looked out over the water, the view unimpeded by wooden rails.  There were a couple of canoes sitting near the water and wooden pier that stretched out to a floating dock. 

“What do you think?”  Sandor asked.

“I love it,” Sansa said.

“Me too!”  Lyanna said.  “Can we go out?”

Sansa opened the back door and Lyanna shot out and headed straight for the swing.  She spent some time trying to pull herself up, much to Sansa’s amusement, and finally gave in and asked for help.  Sandor sat on the other side of Lyanna and she burrowed between the two of them, trying to keep warm.  After a few minutes Sandor got up, went back inside, and returned with a thick blanket, draping it over the two of them.

“Not cold?” Sansa asked.

He shrugged.  “I’m fine.  Shouldn’t you be used to this, being a Northern girl and all that?”

Sansa chuckled.  “Guess I’ve been down here too long.  And it’s not often I sit at the edge of a lake in the dead of winter.”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not the dead of winter, little bird.  It’s just starting.”

 “Thank you, San-more!” Lyanna chirped as she poked her head out from the blanket.  Just then, her stomach gave a long, low rumble, and she giggled.

“You say something, bro?” Sandor teased her.

“My tummy needs food.  Like right now,” she told him seriously.

So Sandor stood and lifted her up, blanket and all, and the three of them headed in for supper.  Afterward, Lyanna insisted that they watch her put on a show and she spun and twirled around the living room while Sansa cuddled on the couch with Sandor.

It was unbelievable to Sansa how perfect things were going and it made her nervous.  Sandor still had his moments where he barked on occasion, especially to other people, but since they had started dating, he hadn’t shown his old signs of hatefulness.  The traitorous part of Sansa’s brain whispered dark things to her.  _What if he is just putting on a show?  What if he is on his best behavior for me right now?  What if it all changes once we get more serious?_

She stopped her thoughts there because thinking of any kind of future heightened her anxiety.  Maybe if they stayed as happy as they had been, and maybe if their relationship status stayed the same, they would be okay.  But Sansa knew that her thoughts made little sense.  She could tell a difference in the way he looked at her.  Something had shifted between them and she was terrified to put a name to it.  And what if Sandor didn’t just want to date indefinitely?  Arya had told her he wasn’t interested in a family, but the more Sansa thought about it, the more wrong that notion seemed.  He had taken her and her kid on a holiday and they’d been together for three months. 

She felt Sandor’s fingers running through her hair and closed her eyes.  How could she be so anxious when one touch from him seemed to set the world right?  Lyanna finally collapsed onto a chair and was asleep in minutes.  Sandor walked over to the chair and scooped her into his arms.  Sansa followed him as he headed up to the loft, which Lyanna had claimed once she’d gotten a look at the view.

She watched as he tucked her in and felt that pull at her heartstrings again.  His huge hand rubbed at her little blonde head tenderly. 

“She asked me earlier if you could be her daddy,” Sansa blurted, not quite realizing when she decided to tell him that.

He froze with his back still to her and she silently bid him to turn around so she could get a look at his face.  She didn’t know why she’d told him.  She had no intention of planting that kind of image in his head.  But everything about the three of them together felt _right_.

“I wish I was.”  He’d said it so quietly that Sansa wasn’t sure if she imagined it.  Then, he cleared his throat and said, “She told me that’s what she wanted for Sevenmas.  For me to be her dad.”

He finally turned around to her and Sansa noticed the strained look of someone who wanted to say something, yet held it back.  She walked over and slid her arms around his waist, her fingers running up the muscles of his back and her head finding its favorite spot on his chest.

“Damn Harry,” Sansa said, unsure what else she could say.  “I apologize if that was awkward for you.  She just doesn’t understand.”

He huffed a laugh into her hair and the movement of his breath on her skin gave her goosebumps. 

“I told her I wish I could be,” he said. 

Sansa stiffened, unsure where this conversation was about to go.  She pulled away from him and held her hand out.  “Let’s get out of here before we wake her up.”

They made their way downstairs, but before going to bed, Sansa drifted back toward the back porch, wanting one more look at the view.  She heard him come up behind her and he wrapped his strong arms around her waist.  He pulled her against him and dropped his chin on top of her head.

“We’ll have to come back in the spring,” he told her.  “More outside activities.”

Sansa’s mind was elsewhere though.  As she watched the breeze blow over the surface of the God’s Eye, creating ripples in the surface, a thousand questions ran through her head.  And she finally wanted to put a voice to them.

“Did you ever want children, Sandor?”

He didn’t hesitate when he said, “No, never thought about it.”

Sansa chewed on her lip, wishing he would elaborate and help her out a little.  When it was clear he wasn’t going to, she continued, “How is it that you’re so good with Lyanna when you’ve never even considered…you know, having kids?”

He sighed heavily.  “I don’t know.  Always thought a kid would run screaming at my face.  She didn’t.”

“Sandor, you know that your own kids wouldn’t…they wouldn’t be scared of you,” she turned in his arms and looped hers around his neck.  “If you had kids, they’d never know you without scars and it wouldn’t bother them.  You didn’t meet Lyanna until she was nearly three and they didn’t bother her.”

He shook his head at her and she saw a flicker of that old darkness in his eyes.  “I’ve had kids scream at my face before.  What does it even matter?  I don’t have kids and the only one I’m ever around is different.”

His hands were looser about her waist now and she was a little worried that she was pushing him, but she couldn’t stop herself.  “Okay, so I asked before _did_ you ever think about it, as in before…what about now?”

His hands dropped from her hips, though he didn’t scoot away from her.  His eyes lifted to the ceiling as if he was praying for patience.  When he looked back at her, she could see he was annoyed.  “What is this, Sansa?  Why all the questions?  Am I missing something?”

Her arms fell from his neck and she took a step back.  “It’s just that I want to know what you’re expecting…you know, out of this.”

“Out of this?” He repeated flatly.

“Yes!  I mean, do you have any expectations?”

He crossed his arms over his chest.  “Do you?”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly.  But that wasn’t quite right.  She had gotten spoiled to his presence.  If he suddenly decided he didn’t want to see them every day, she would be hurt.

“Why ask me then?”

“UGH!  Just answer the question!”

He raised one eyebrow at her outburst.  “I don’t expect anything,” he said.  “Every day, I try to figure out how this happened.  I’m well aware that I’m the luckiest ugly bastard on the planet.  Can’t count how many times I’ve questioned if this is real,” his hands shot out to grab her hips and pulled her back to him.  “Finally I said fuck it.  I’ll enjoy it while I can.”

Before Sansa could give an answer to that, he’d scooped her up against him, pulling her legs around his waist.  His forearms rested just under her butt and it made her feel like she was using them as a chair.  She laughed at the thought.

“What’s so funny?”  He growled into her ear.

She locked her arms behind his neck to feel a little more secure.  “You’re just so strong,” she teased, which earned her a smack on the bottom.

He leaned down to brush his nose against hers and his breath ghosted over her lips when he said, “You’re about to see how strong I am.”

“Can’t wait,” she answered and before she knew it, he had her pressed against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to slow waaaayyy down, as they already have. I never intended to wait this long in between updates, but I legit almost died last week, so....yeah.
> 
> By the way, kidney infections are 100% no joke. I have 3 stones in various positions in my left kidney that were obstructing urine flow. I developed an infection because of that. Went to doc-in-a-box, got x-ray, CT, antibiotics, etc on Friday, 9/20. Over that weekend, I started running a high fever and vomiting. But I just hung out at home, knowing I had an appt with the urologist on Monday. So. By the time I made it to the drs appt, he put my ass in the hospital so fast that the hospital didn't even have all the paperwork and orders from him by the time they got me in a room.
> 
> Turns out, I developed sepsis. I had surgery Tuesday to place stents in my left ureter to allow urine to flow, but I'm still toting around 3 stones. Got out of the hospital, but I have to go back Monday to decide what can be done with the stones finally.
> 
> It's been awhile since I had a near-death experience, so it's definitely slowed me down. But I won't abandon this story (unless I actually die...kidding!!!) Just hang in there with me.


	29. Well done, Hound, now you've scared her.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *ahem*...angst anyone?

(Sandor)

He woke sometime in the early morning hours when the sky only showed the barest hint of grey light. He slid his hand under the covers and over the curve of her hip and relished the feeling of her smooth skin under his rough hands.  She was on her stomach, her hands stuffed under her pillow, her pretty mouth wide open as she slept.  Her hair was in total disarray, but Sandor decided he liked the look of it, considering how it had gotten that way.

He got up to take a piss, then walked into the kitchen to pick up their discarded clothes. He tossed them into the laundry hamper and went to check on the dogs.  Stranger, ever obedient, was curled up in his dog bed near the fireplace.  Pupcake was nowhere to be found and Sandor got a sneaking suspicion that the little puppy had crept up to the loft to sleep with her little girl.

He crept back to the bedroom and stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching her sleep. She had moved a bit and now the covers were low on her hips, her back was exposed, a hint of her breast showing beneath her arm.  His cock twitched to life with just the suggestion of her bare chest.  Evidently, he’d never be able to get enough of her.

He moved back to the bed and slipped under the covers to lie on his side, head propped on his elbow. He pulled the covers further up on her as he didn’t want her to get cold.  Though it was still dark, he could make out her features plain enough as her eyes fluttered open.

She stared for a few seconds before her brain caught up, then she smiled at him lazily. Gods, but she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. _Trying to be a buggering poet again_.  But he seemed unable to control the thoughts he had about her.  He alternately wanted to fuck her senseless and crush her into his arms, thank her for giving him such a gift.

Sansa’s hand slid out from under her pillow and moved over the sheets until she was barely brushing her fingers against his chest hair. He covered her hand with his own, then ran it down her arm and up to her shoulder where his thumb stopped to draw patterns on her skin.  She was still too far away for his taste.

“Get over here,” he growled softly, and she promptly scooted over on her side, moving her left arm around his middle and hooking her left leg around his hips.

“This better?” She asked him in a sleepy voice.

“It’s a start,” he teased.

She nuzzled her face into his neck and her breath stirring on his skin had him pulling her closer somehow, pushing his erection into the top of her leg draped over his waist.

“Woke up ready to go, did we?” She teased as her teeth brushed against his ear.

“Always ready,” he grunted as he pulled her leg tighter, pressed himself into the skin of her thigh. “Your fault.”

He could feel the warm wetness from her on his leg. He smirked at her.  “Speaking of waking up ready,” he dipped his hand between her legs and she gasped, and then bit into her lip to stop any other sounds.

Sandor rolled to his side with her leg still hooked around him and tugged her closer. His hands swept over her back as she arched into him.  Her nails ran over his ribs and he had to suppress a shiver.  She pushed her hips at his, clearly indicating what she was wanting.  Their mouths found one another just before he slid home, swallowing her gasp.

It was slower this way and Sandor still had enough grasp on his other senses that he could pay attention to the rest of her. He looked down at her face and saw she was watching him, her eyes wide open and her pupils blown wide.  Her nails were scratching more insistently at his skin now and her hips moved a bit faster, but he kept at his slow pace, watching her.

Her hands moved from his back to his chest, then slid up to his neck; her thumbs brushed against his beard. She kissed him again, slowly, mimicking the pace at which he moved inside her.  When he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, she opened up for him, all soft and wet and warm.

Sansa pushed at his chest and, for a moment, he thought she wanted him to stop kissing her. But then she had rolled until she was straddling him, looking down at him.  He slid his hands up to settle on her thighs as she began to move, rolling her hips against his in the most delicious rhythm.  He let her go, watched her as she rode him, her breasts bouncing with every roll of her hips.  Her head tilted back and her eyes closed and her full bottom lip was pulled between her teeth. 

_Gods, she’s gorgeous_.

Sandor held off as long as he could, watched her take her pleasure, but eventually he couldn’t stop the movement of his own hips. Every so often, his hips would drive into hers, prompting a pretty little sound from her mouth.  He moved his hands from the top of her thighs to her hips with his thumbs resting against the slightly protruding bones there.  Then he tilted his hips at a different angle and drove into her again.

She cried out, her hands coming up to cover his where they rested on her hips. She opened her eyes again to look at him. 

“Beautiful,” he muttered before he knew what he was saying.

But she was. Her pale skin was flushed pink from her cheeks to her chest.  Her hair was lit like a flame against the steadily rising sun through their window.  But the best part was those sky blue eyes, looking him in the face without any fear, or disgust, or pity, but with what looked an awful lot like love. 

And it was crazy to think that way. No one had ever looked at him like that, so how did he know?  But how she looked at him matched how he felt for her, and it sounded insane, but he knew. _He knew_.

Sandor switched their positions then, rolling her to her back so abruptly that she squealed in shock and then giggled a little. He sat up all the way on his knees and she whimpered a bit when all he left inside her was the tip.  He leaned back and took first her left leg, then her right, and pulled them up his body until her legs were more or less straight in the air, her thighs resting against his stomach.

Her breathing changed as he slid back into her, deeper this time, and she tightened around him. His hands landed near her knees, his thumbs pressing into the bend as he snapped his hips into hers.  Her breaths came out in little huffs as he drove into her and that lip went back between her teeth, attempting to stifle her cries.  Her hands tangled in the sheets, grasping onto the cotton as though it was an anchor.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and just concentrate on the feel of her enveloping him, he couldn’t look away.  He pulled away from her again and she answered with a mildly frustrated whine.  He pushed her legs back apart and lowered himself until their bodies were flush against each other and brushed her lips with his.

Sansa’s arms went around his neck and held him to her as she kissed him back, but her legs didn’t follow, staying spread beneath him as he once again took up his slow pace. She met him, thrust for thrust, her moans causing a small buzz on his lips as he continued to kiss her.  His arms were bracketed on either side of her, and he brought his hands up to her face, his fingers tangling in the wild hair that clung to her skin.

His lips moved, pressing kisses against her jaw, down her neck. Into her ear, he said, “Touch yourself, Sansa.”

He lifted away from her so she could comply and looked between their bodies as her hand found the top of her slit. She made a ‘v’ of her fingers around the little nub as she began moving her hand.  Her breath hitched and he could feel her labored breaths in the brush of her breasts against his chest.  He slammed into her with more force as she tightened around him.

The squeeze of her body around his was almost painful. “Come for me,” he rasped, unsure of how long he could hold on.

She jerked beneath him and let loose a strangled cry as she clamped around him and he was gone then too. His balls tightened and he slammed his eyes shut, damn near saw stars as he spilled into her, continuing to thrust, drawing out the pleasure as long as he could, before collapsing on top of her.  He made to move, worried he was crushing her, but she locked him in place by wrapping her legs around his, interlocking them.  Her hands moved back around his neck, and she kissed him sweetly.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the flowery scent of her body wash mingled with sweat. Her hands were in his hair, and she ran her fingers through the strands, occasionally catching on a tangle. 

“I want to wake up like this every day,” she said quietly, nuzzling her face against his beard.

And suddenly, as if everything in his life became clear, it occurred to Sandor what he wanted. He didn’t look at her, but said quietly, “So let’s make it happen.”

The fingers in his hair stopped. “What?”

His nose trailed from her jawline to her ear. “Move in with me,” he said.

Sansa was so quiet for a moment that he thought she might not have heard him, but the hitch in her breathing and the rapid pace of her heart beating against their pressed chests let him know otherwise. He pulled away from her neck slowly so that he could look in her face and he saw she’d gone pale.

_Well done, Hound, now you’ve scared her_.

But he wouldn’t take it back, wouldn’t lie to her. It wasn’t in him to backtrack and tell pretty lies to take away someone’s discomfort, not even if that someone was Sansa.

“I…” Sansa swallowed thickly and seemed unable to get out more than a one syllable word. “It’s…a bit soon for that, right?”

He tried not to let the rejection affect him. It wasn’t as though he’d thought through how to ask her; the thought had come to him so suddenly that he barely had any time to think about the implication of them living together.  He knew he wanted it though.

He nodded, moved to get off of her, and she let him. He dropped to her right side and pulled her against him, settling her in the crook of his arm.  She stiffened against him and he breathed out heavily.

“Sansa, relax,” he rasped, running his fingers over her arm in an attempt to calm her. He didn’t care that she didn’t want to move in with him, even though she had just said she could wake up with him every day.  The problem was in her body language.

“How can I relax?” Her reply was quiet, barely above a whisper, and he thought he detected a tremor in her voice.

He turned on his side to face her, propped on his elbow. He studied her face and what he saw made his gut clench with unease.  She was still a bit pale, and she hadn’t even shifted when he’d pulled his arm out from under her.  She lay there awkwardly and stared at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes.

“What does that mean?” It came out more of a growl than he intended, but he was quickly becoming agitated at her behavior.

“I mean, how do you think I should react?” Sansa’s eyes snapped to his face, and strangely enough, she looked angry.  “We’re having a great time.  Things are going so well and you spring something like that on me?  Why would you do that?”

He shoved himself up and off the bed, striding to his drawer to dig out a pair of gym shorts. “I don’t know, Sansa,” he said sarcastically as he shoved his leg into the first hole, “Maybe because _things are going so well_.  Seems to me this is the perfect time to mention it.”

She scrambled out of bed after him, trying to cover up her nakedness as she searched for something to cover up with. Stubbornly, he refused to look away from her, not caring how uncomfortable she might feel about having a fight while naked.

She tugged one of his hoodies over her head. “We’ve been dating for _three months_ , Sandor.  That’s nothing!”

He bristled at the word _nothing_ , ready to challenge that notion, but instead he tried for a calmer approach.  “It’s okay to just say no, you know?  I’m not going to be pissed because you don’t want to move in with me.”

“I just…I can’t believe that you’re…jumping into that,” she said.

He must have looked at her like she had three heads because she dropped her eyes to the floor. He tried to keep the growl out of his voice when he said, “Jumping into _what?_ I haven’t jumped into anything.  We aren’t doing it.  I’m not forcing your fucking hand, Sansa!  It’s fine if you aren’t ready for that…”

“Fine? Oh, is it fine?  Because you’re totally acting fine!”  She said, voice dripping with acid.  “It’s _totally fine_ that you’re acting pissed.”

His jaw clenched and he glared at her, well on his way to being done with this bullshit. “I’m pissed because of how you’re acting, not because you won’t move in with me.”

Her hands went into her hair, pushing it back away from her face as she began pacing. “You _know_ what I’ve been through.  That’s what makes this even worse…”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, wondering if he had missed something because she was not making any sense to him. “What does anything you’ve been through have to do with this?”

“Sandor, you just asked me to move in with you. That’s huge!  How can I go back to before…”

He rolled his eyes, hardly believing that they were arguing about this. “As much as I fucking hate lying and pretending, why don’t you go ahead and pretend I didn’t say it?”              

“Because now there’s this…expectation…”

“I told you last night, I don’t have any expectations.”

“But you will at some point,” she said. “If you mention moving in together now, after _only three months_ , then what’s going to happen in six months when I still don’t want to?”

“Then you don’t,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m fucking clueless as to why this is an issue.”

She stopped pacing to look at him, and for the first time looked a little sad rather than pissed. “It’s an issue because we don’t want the same things.”

“Seven hells, you’re being dramatic,” he snapped. “We like being together, is that not enough?”

“What if it’s not one day? What if you get tired of waiting around for me to move in with you and I never want it?”

“We live next door to each other,” he said flatly. “I think I can live with it.”

“So five years down the road,” she said, her voice going quiet, “What if I never want us to be more than what we are right now? What if you _do_ want us to be more?  Where does that leave us?”

“That’s a lot of what-ifs. You don’t know what you’re going to want in five years.  That’s a long way off.  Can we stop talking about this now?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not done.  I need you to understand why I have such an aversion to…”

“Commitment?” He barked out a laugh.  He couldn’t fathom that he was actually having this conversation and that _he was the one okay with the commitment_.  “No mystery there, Little Bird.  Joffrey and Harry fucked you over.  I understand that well enough.  Just don’t get what it has to do with us.”

“Because there is obviously something wrong with my judgment! I’ve fucked up royally _twice_.  I have two of the worst exes in the history of bad exes.  It has _everything_ to do with us!”

He took three long strides and was in front of her, snarling in her face. “Didn’t know I was a part of your bad judgment.  You could’ve told me that before we got so involved.”

“That is _not_ what I meant…”

“No? You’re the one who said it.  I don’t expect anything out of you, but you’re still torn up from the mere _suggestion_ that we take another step.  I’ve questioned myself about why you’d want this, but I finally said _fuck it_ and decided to enjoy the ride.  I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m sorry for making that suggestion because I do want it.  But I’m okay if you don’t.”

He was so close to her now that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “You actually want it then?  It wasn’t just something you said without any thought?”

Sandor thought back to what made him say it, shook his head. “I hadn’t planned it, Sansa.  It _was_ something I said without thinking about, but that doesn’t mean I wanted it any less.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed and she looked away from him again. He wished she would stop looking away.

“I think that I will pretend you didn’t say it,” she whispered. “Maybe that makes me a coward and I’m sure it makes you mad since you hate liars, but I just can’t…”  She closed her eyes, breathed deeply as though to settle herself.  “Let’s just enjoy our vacation, okay?  I’m sorry for the overreaction.”

He took a step away from her to give her some space. “I’m going to start breakfast,” he mumbled and left her to her thoughts.


	30. I make no sense, even to myself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tries to sort out her emotions and enjoy the rest of their vacation.

(Sansa)

Sansa stood there after he stomped out of the room for several minutes, frozen in place, scared to make any move while her brain was overworking itself. Her blood pressure had probably sky-rocketed.  The initial shock of hearing him ask her to move in had somewhat faded, but now she was left with a heaping load of anxiety and fear. 

Her conversation with Arya kept cropping up in her head and she fought to push it away, desperate to stop projecting her sister’s issues onto her own relationship. It baffled her that suddenly she and Arya, who were so incredibly different, had somehow ran into the same problem.  She tried to think of what would happen if she agreed to move in with him, and she couldn’t help but think, _if we get serious now, if I let myself completely surrender my heart, how much will it hurt later?_

Because really, that was the problem: everything seemed to have an expiration date.  She didn’t know when hers and Sandor’s would be, but it had to be there.  She was too screwed up, too damaged to be able to have a normal relationship.  The more she thought about the inevitable end, the more panicked she felt.

Sansa sat down on the end of the bed and tried to be rational. Things were going well; she’d even told him that, hadn’t she?  He treated her like every woman surely hoped to be treated.  He made her feel good about herself.  He could be tender, but only for her and Lyanna.  He could be fierce to others, but honestly, she liked that.  He’d never been anyone’s doormat and since Sansa had, that was a quality she could admire.

So why did the thought of him mentioning moving forward in their relationship make her panic? She had felt for a while that maybe they hadn’t been as slow as they should have been, but when he had first mentioned that he wanted to be with her, she’d been too happy to focus on going slowly.  Now they spent nearly every night together and almost all of their free time.  Seven Hells, she had _asked_ him how he felt about being a dad!  Suddenly, it seemed like the whole mess was all her fault.  She had ignored the warning bells that they might be moving too fast.  She had asked him to start staying at her place some nights.  She had asked him about children.  She had _just told him that she wanted to wake up with him every day!_

How could Sansa put all the blame on him when she had been sending him a very clear signal that she wanted to be with him? And she _really did want to be with him_.  But now she was scared.  She buried her face in her hands and groaned, trying to understand why she had reacted to him that way.  It was clear as day to her now that she had been trying to push him away during their argument.  She just didn’t understand why.  She wanted to talk to him more, but she wasn’t sure what to say. 

_Hey, I want to be with you every second I possibly can and I adore you, but don’t mention anything about moving forward ever again, okay?_ It sounded ridiculous even in her head.  She had no reason to think that Sandor would ever intentionally hurt her, and even as she sat there pondering what her problem was, the issue began to take shape.

It was startlingly simple. She was afraid of getting hurt.

Maybe she wasn’t even actually _afraid_ of committing to him, but what could and probably would happen down the road.  She hadn’t been afraid of getting serious with Harry or Joffrey.  Had the two of them destroyed her so completely that she couldn’t trust someone she knew to be a good man?  Or maybe it wasn’t so much about the individuals who had hurt her in the past, but more about who _could_ hurt her in the future.

As bad as it had hurt, physically and emotionally, to suffer abuse at Joffrey’s hand or at his command, and as heartbreaking as it had been to find out that Harry had betrayed her again and again, Sansa knew somehow that losing Sandor would be worse. She should have told him that.  She should have explained to him that she was scared of losing him, that she was terrified that they would make a misstep and it would all end and that she would never recover from it.

But she didn’t know how to put it in words.

_If I let myself fall in love with him, if I expose myself completely like that, how will I survive when it ends?_

It was the first time that she had admitted that she _could_ fall in love with him.  Maybe she already had…?  That stubborn voice in her head popped in to tell her that it was too soon for all that, but she wondered if that was a lie she told herself.  It was as though she was being pulled in two directions.  One led her into Sandor’s arms and the other kept him at arm’s length, close but no so close that she could surrender control.

If he broke her heart, she would be emotionally crippled. He meant too much to her already.  Moving in together, professing love for one another, marriage –Sansa cringed to think about it – would only open up the door for a deeper hurt when things ended for them.

She pushed her hands through her tangled hair, pulling at the roots, comforting in the sting it provided to distract her from the torment she was feeling. Was she really going to punish herself and punish Sandor because of something that might happen?  She couldn’t get too far ahead of herself.  She was being ridiculous.  Besides, Sandor had said he was okay with her not wanting to move in with him.  Why couldn’t she just be okay too? _Don’t ruin this, Sansa_.

She heard the patter of little human feet as well as the clicking of tiny clawed puppy feet and knew that Lyanna and Pupcake were heading downstairs. She pulled herself together, took a deep breath, and emerged into the kitchen just as Lyanna rounded the corner. 

Sandor was standing at the stove, laying out ingredients for what looked to be pancakes. Lyanna rubbed at her eyes sleepily.

“I hungry, San-more. I want something to eat.”

“Working on it, bro,” he answered, giving her a grin.

At least Sansa could count on him not to take out his anger on Lyanna. She could still see it in him though, as he gave her a sideways glance.  The tightening of his jaw and the narrow cut of those grey eyes told her that he was still pissed at her. 

Sansa let Stranger and Pupcake out to take care of their business and then assisted Lyanna as she made their breakfast bowls. Sandor exchanged a few words with Lyanna, but he didn’t say anything to Sansa, and for now, that was probably for the best.

The three of them ate breakfast and Lyanna chatted non-stop, thankfully filling in conversation that would have left an awkward silence had it been up to Sandor and Sansa. Part of her wanted to try to talk to him again once she’d had more time to calm down, but she also knew that the topic of moving in together would spike her anxiety all over again. 

After breakfast, Lyanna coaxed both dogs up to her loft while Sandor and Sansa cleaned up the kitchen silently. When everything was put away, Sandor disappeared into the bedroom and when he reemerged, he was wearing jeans and a white long sleeve thermal shirt with a red flannel button up over it.  He exited through the backdoor without a word and walked to the edge of the lake and just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, likely glaring at the amazing view.

Sansa didn’t know what to do. She certainly didn’t want him to stay mad at her, but she didn’t want to poke the bear either.  She reminded herself that he wasn’t mad because she rejected the idea of moving in with him, but rather with how she reacted.  She climbed up to the loft to check on Lyanna.

Her daughter was curled up in the bed covers with both dogs, watching cartoons on her small television. Pupcake had burrowed under the covers while Stranger was stretched out, taking up half the bed.

“Hi, Mommy!” Lyanna chirped, barely looking away from her show.

Sansa sat down on the bed and scratched Stranger’s ears. Pupcake’s head poked out of the blanket, seemingly miffed that the much larger dog was getting attention when she wasn’t.  She immediately pushed herself between Sansa’s hand and Stranger’s head and demanded attention.

“Brat,” Sansa muttered.

Lyanna looked up at her, and she was sure she was about to be admonished for language, but the toddler was studying her curiously. Sansa was almost too scared to ask what was going on in that little blonde head of hers.

“You mad at San-more?” she finally asked.

“What? No, I’m not mad…”

“San-more mad at Mommy?”

“I…don’t think so, baby…”

“You not hold hands,” she said knowingly.

“What do you mean?”

“We eat and you hold hands all the time,” Lyanna said. “You did not hold hands today.”

Sansa thought about what she was saying, and then realized that they _did_ usually wind up touching each other’s hands at the table.  Normally, when they were done eating, one of them would seek out the other’s hand.  It had been such a natural part of their routine that Sansa had hardly realized they were doing it.  But _of course_ , Lyanna noticed it.

“Oh,” Sansa said weakly, unable to think of a good explanation for the lack of hand holding.

“Why you not hold hands?” Now she was interested.  She was sitting up in bed, legs crossed tailor style and had her elbows on her knees, chin propped on hands, waiting patiently for Sansa’s response.

Sansa ran her fingers through her daughter’s messy blonde hair, wondering if a lie would be easier than the truth. Finally, she settled for:  “Sometimes people get upset with each other, Lyanna.  It doesn’t mean we won’t hold hands again.  It just means that we needed to calm down and stop being mad about fussing with each other.”

“Was he a bad boy?” Lyanna grinned conspiratorially, as though getting dirt on Sandor was her new mission in life.

Sansa managed to keep the grin off her face at her little gossip of a daughter. “No, he wasn’t a bad boy.  It just happens.  You get mad at me sometimes, right?”

Lyanna nodded.

“But it’s not because I’m a bad girl…”

Lyanna looked like she was ready to argue that point, but sighed and shook her head instead.

“Right, so people will have disagreements sometimes. It doesn’t mean anyone is a bad boy or bad girl.”

Lyanna nodded in understanding. “You go hold his hand,” she said with finality, turning back to her show.

“Well, I don’t know if he’s ready for that…”

Lyanna shrugged, “Give him hug then.”

A few minutes later, Sansa found herself standing at the kitchen door, staring at Sandor’s broad back. He was still in the same place and she figured he was probably trying to cool down.  She had dressed in fleece-lined leggings, a hoodie, and warm boots.  She wasn’t sure if what she had planned was the best idea, but she resolved to do it anyway.

She opened the door as quietly as she could, though she could tell he heard it. He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders stiffened a bit.  She crept up behind him slowly, unsure if she needed to say anything.  So far, all the words she’d said all morning had been wrong.  Her heart hammered in her chest and her breathing hitched a bit.  She was nervous.

She studied the back of him for a moment and decided it was almost as good as the front.

She admired his long legs, so muscular that she could see the definition of his upper thighs through his jeans, and his broad, muscular back, straining the shirt he wore while his arms were crossed. And that behind.

He really did have a nice behind.

His hair was still messy, unattended to since he had rushed out. It was unbound and hanging down between his shoulder blades. 

She stepped right up behind him and he stiffened again, seemingly not breathing, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, placed her forehead against his back.

“I hate it when we aren’t perfect,” she said, quietly. “I’m sorry I freaked out.  I know that was the worst response I could have given you.”

“It wasn’t the worst,” he rasped. “Didn’t like it though.”

She felt him relax a bit and start breathing again. His hands came down to cover hers where they rested on his stomach.

Sansa frowned into his shirt. “What would’ve been the worst?”

“Not giving you any ideas.”

She laughed softly and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt better just being near him and she wondered why in the world she hadn’t thought to grab ahold of him when she’d been freaking out earlier.  It might have calmed her down sooner.  He turned around to face her, wrapping his long arms around her and dropped a kiss on her hair.

“Guess I need to remember that you spook easily,” he told her.

“Well, how could you have known you’d get _that_ reaction?  I am sorry.  I just need…”

She wasn’t sure what she needed. Time?  Space?  Neither of those things sounded right for the moment; either of those things could make it sound like she was breaking up with him, which she most certainly was _not_ doing.

He didn’t try to help her along with finishing her sentence, just stood there with his arms around her, breathing into her hair.

She took a steadying breath and tried again. “I just need to stop punishing you for what happened to me in the past.  I don’t…know what I want yet, out of this, except to be with you as much as possible.  And I know that I don’t want to be any less than this.”

“Me neither,” he muttered into her hair.

“I don’t want to get hurt,” she said quietly, and she was agitated to note a tremor in her voice.

He stiffened a bit at that, though his arms tightened around her. Sansa squeezed his mid-section, hoping he understood what she meant because she didn’t know if she had the words to articulate all of the fear she felt.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped.

“I know,” Sansa whispered back. Isn’t that what made him worth it? 

“You and my bro,” he said, pulling back from her a little bit so that he could look down at her, “I’d do anything to keep the two of you from being hurt.”

“I know,” she said again, running her hands up his chest to wrap around his neck. She thought he might have been about to kiss her when the sound of thumping caught their attention.  She turned in his arms and let out a laugh.

Lyanna stood at the kitchen door, still wearing her pajamas, but dressed in her coat and boots. She was alternately thumping on the glass and trying to turn the doorknob to the back door to get out.  She waved at them, then pointed at the door. 

“I think she wants out,” Sandor deadpanned.

The two of them walked back to the house and Sandor pulled open the door for Lyanna, who stepped out onto the porch.

“You not tell me you were going outside!” She looked accusingly at Sansa.

At a scraping against the window, Sandor huffed in exasperation and let Pupcake and Stranger out as well. The big dog curled up on the porch, stretching his face toward the sunlight.  Pupcake bounded down the steps, her long skinny legs almost tripping her as she ran around and tried to sniff at everything.

“San-more, you have a boat!” Lyanna squealed in delight.

Sansa watched his eyebrows furrow in confusion for a moment, then he followed Lyanna’s eyes to the small shed. Sitting just on the other side of the shed in shallow water was a small paddle boat.

“Oh, that,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not a real boat.  The real boat is getting maintenance.  That’s just a kid’s boat.”

“I’m a kid, San-more,” Lyanna said, giving him a very matter-of-fact look.

He blinked down at her as though he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Aye, you are.”

She craned her head all the way back to look at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Can I ride in it?”

Sansa looked between the two of them and realized there was some kind of adorable standoff happening.

“It’s cold, bro.”

“I wear a coat,” she shot back.

His silver eyes narrowed a bit. “It’s a very small boat, Lyanna.”

Her head tilted to the side. “I small.”

Now Sandor’s arms were crossed over his chest as well, though Sansa knew that Lyanna wasn’t intimidated in the least.

“It’s winter,” Sandor argued.

“You say winter just started,” she told him, throwing his own words back at him.

Sandor gave a long suffering groan, his eyes swinging to Sansa for help. She gave him a sweet smile, but offered no assistance.

“Fine,” Sandor growled softly.

A few minutes later, it became very apparent why Sandor had been so opposed to the paddle boat ride.

Sansa giggled uncontrollably as her very large man struggled not to knee himself in the face while he paddled. Lyanna sat on Sansa’s lap, pointing this way and that at the different cabins lining the edge of the lake.  When she would see a fish, she would squeal excitedly and ask him to stop, and then the poor man would be sitting there, awkwardly trapped in a position with his feet still on the peddles, grumbling to himself about bossy kids and unhelpful girlfriends while Sansa continued laughing.  The two dogs sat in the back seats, Stranger occasionally poking his head to the front of the boat to lick at Sandor’s face as he cursed under his breath.

“Can I swim?” Lyanna asked, pushing her hood off her head as she stared into the water.

“No,” Sansa said as she replaced her hood on her head. “It _is_ too cold for that.”

Lyanna huffed a little bit in frustration, but quieted when the huge, old castle across the lake came into view.

“Woooowww,” she said, trying to stand up in Sansa’s lap.

“That’s Harrenhal,” Sandor told them.

Sansa only vaguely remembered it from her youth. But unlike things that had seemed larger when she was younger, the grandness of Harrenhal hadn’t diminished.  It was just as huge and foreboding as she remembered. 

“We’ll have to visit there sometime,” Sansa said.

“Does a princess live there?” Lyanna asked.

“Not anymore,” Sansa said. “But I bet one did a long time ago.”

“Is it haunted?” Lyanna asked next, seemingly more excited about the prospect of ghosts than princesses.

“For sure,” Sandor rumbled, trying to start the little boat again as his long legs got in the way.

Sandor managed to get them turned around and headed back. By the time they made it back to the cabin, it was nearly lunch time, so Sansa made everyone hot cocoa while Sandor made lunch.

Their fight forgotten, the rest of the vacation passed too quickly for Sansa’s liking. Lyanna managed to talk Sandor into a paddle boat ride every day.  One day, they decided to try for a walk in the wooded area across from the cabin, and though it ended with Lyanna being toted atop Sandor’s shoulders, he didn’t complain.  At sunset, they would all pile onto the swing and cover themselves with blankets and just enjoy the peacefulness that the setting offered.  They talked about returning when it was warmer so that Lyanna could take her swim.

The morning that they left, Sandor announced, a bit gruffly, “Back to real life tomorrow, Little Bird.”

New Year’s Eve was in two days and Sansa had already resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t see Sandor, busy as he would be at his bar. The Starks would hold their famous rooftop party in King’s Landing, so Sansa had made plans to go with Arya.  It felt odd, even to Sansa, that she had reacted so strongly to Sandor’s suggestion that had caused the fight because even now, with a long trip ahead of them and the promise that he would spend the night, she already missed him knowing that in a couple of nights she wouldn’t get to see him.

_I make no sense, even to myself_ , she thought just as she drifted off with her head against the window, the hum of the engine putting her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookkkayyy...so apparently Sansa pissed off a lot of people last chapter. *eek* Sorry, guys, but she's a bigger mess than what she even knows. I hope her thoughts this chapter kind of make it a little more clear as to why she had the reaction that she did. This story has always been about her warring with her past experiences vs. the experiences she has with Sandor, and sometimes it's just really hard to let loose of relationships that left a bad taste in your mouth.
> 
> Also, someone mentioned that she has PTSD and that's exactly what I'm going for. I'm not going to delve too far into that, but I've always wanted that to come across, even if subtly. She has had it so bad in the past that she truly believes that somewhere along the way, this relationship is going to get fucked up - even though all signs point to that not happening.
> 
> I do apologize if Sansa's reaction aggravated the hell out of y'all, but honestly, it was kind of meant to. That reaction has been planned since I began writing the story and *HEADS UP* there's more angst to come, although the next bit is going to come more from Sandor's end. 
> 
> I know how the story ends, just not sure how many chapters it's going to take, but we're definitely creeping up on the last few chapters. I absolutely adore everyone who has taken the time to comment on this story! I know that I totally suck at replying to everyone, but I read every comment and appreciate everyone sticking with this story!


	31. Don't sabotage your relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Sandor in this chapter, folks, but Sansa comes to a pretty significant conclusion.

(Sansa)

When they returned home, everything was as it always had been: easy, fun, and comfortable.  The brief conversation that had scared Sansa out of her mind was seemingly forgotten. 

Her family’s New Year’s Eve party was approaching and Sansa busied herself with choosing outfits for Lyanna and herself. Sandor told her that he would have to work that night, as the bar would be insanely busy.  Gendry, too, would miss the family gathering.

The party would not be held at the Stark residence, as most get-togethers were, but at a rooftop party in King’s Landing, complete with a view of fireworks. Lyanna seemed particularly excited about this, but Sansa wasn’t sure if the toddler could actually hold out until midnight to watch the show.  More than just her family would be there, of course, as the Stark party was known to attract high-rolling party-goers and particularly important people from all over.

While she was excited, Sansa also dreaded the thought that Baelish would show up. Or Cersei.  Or Harry, for that matter.  She imagined dumping a glass of champagne on his head if he dared show his face, but then thought better of it; Lyanna didn’t need to see any childish behavior out of her mother.  Arya, on the other hand, was more than willing to make any mess on Harry that Sansa requested of her; and not for the first time, Sansa was glad to have her ruthless little sister as an ally.

On the night of the party, Sansa, Arya, and Lyanna headed to downtown King’s Landing in Arya’s car. Sansa made good use of the “oh, shit” bar as Arya cursed the traffic and Lyanna scolded her for her bad language.  By the time Arya had sped through the parking deck and whipped into a space, Sansa was wondering if she had whip-lash. 

Sansa removed Lyanna from her car seat and resisted the urge to carry her when her little arms went up into the air. Sansa was wearing four-inch black heels, and while she was well-practiced in walking in them, she didn’t want to risk falling and squishing Lyanna.  Arya, who was wearing more modest ankle boots, scooped her up instead. 

They entered through the hotel lobby and Sansa stopped in front of a mirror to check her outfit. She wore a navy sequined dress that ended just above her knees with a small slit in the side.  The sleeves were three-quarter length, and compared to what other people were wearing, her outfit was relatively modest.  Arya had also gone for modest, borrowing one of Sansa’s cream colored sweaters, which fit Arya more like a dress.  She looked lovely, though nowhere near as dressed up as Sansa, though maybe a little peculiar considering her normal style.

Lyanna wore a sparkly number with matching silver shoes, declaring to anyone who would listen that she was a princess and that her mommy had just forgotten her tiara. Sansa took a photo of the two of them and sent it to Sandor after she had finally made it up to the rooftop.

**Sandor: wish I was there with you**

_Sansa: Me too.  Haven’t ran into any unpleasant people yet, so maybe this night won’t be a total bust._

**Sandor: I have a room full of unpleasant people.  Drunk assholes**

_Sansa: Think of me at midnight._

**Sandor: Don’t have to wait til midnight for that**

Sansa smiled down at her phone before forcibly making herself put it away so she could socialize. Margaery found her within a few minutes, dropping kisses all over Lyanna’s face and giving Sansa a side hug.

“How’s it going, dear? I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Margaery looked around a moment.  “Where’s your sexy beast of a man?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Working.  He owns a bar, so I imagine this is the busiest night of the year.”

Margaery nodded, “True, true. Why aren’t you hanging out at his bar though?  Planning to go there after this?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, not tonight.  I have Lyanna and besides, I don’t want to distract him.”

Margaery gave her a knowing grin. “I suppose the two of you distract each other a lot.”

“So nosy,” Sansa hissed at her playfully.

“What? I’m just trying to make sure my girl is taken care of,” Margaery linked arms with her and began to lead her through the thick crowd of people.  “You’ve had your share of assholes.  He treats you good, though, yes?”

Sansa nodded. “He treats me great.  I think he’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, outside of Lyanna.”

Margaery stopped abruptly and turned to Sansa, those sharp eyes studying her carefully. “Strong words, sweetness.  Is it love?”

“Um,” Sansa fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. Thankfully, Arya swooped in at just the right minute.

“Move over, Tyrell. You can’t hog her the whole night,” Arya tugged on her arm.  “Come on, Robb’s just got here with Jeyne.”

Sansa knew that it was no big thing for her to rush over and greet her brother, but she was thankful for the save. Arya tugged her along until they were standing in front of Robb, who was dressed in a fine suit, but was looking a bit pale and out of sorts.  Jeyne, for her part, looked lovely, and didn’t seem to notice that Robb looked like he might vomit at any moment.

“Are you all right?” Sansa asked him when she hugged him.

“What? Of course.  I’m fine.  Are…are you okay?” Robb wiped some sweat from his brow and blinked at her several times.

“Um, yeah. I’m good.  Robb…why are you sweating?  It’s the last day of December on a chilly rooftop…are you sick?”

“What?! No!  It’s just the heaters Mom insists on putting out here,” he pointed around to the offensive heaters, though none were in close proximity to him.

Sansa looked at him doubtfully, but decided to let it drop. She didn’t want him vomiting on her dress anyway.  She prepared a plate of food to share with Lyanna, and the two of them sat at a table near one of the large heaters.  Lyanna poked popcorn chicken into her mouth, only complaining a bit that it wasn’t as good as Sandor’s popcorn chicken.

“Probably same freezer brand,” Arya muttered, joining them. “But because her San-more didn’t make it, it’s not as good.”  Arya snorted, then turned to Lyanna.  “I don’t know why you like him so much, squirt.  He’s not that cool,” she teased.

Lyanna promptly stuck her tongue out. “My bro is cooler than you.”

“It’s not nice to stick out your tongue, Lyanna,” Sansa admonished, then saw Arya mimic the action from the corner of her eye. “You’re such a bad influence.”

As the night wore on, Sansa was thankful for the little things. Petyr Baelish didn’t show his face.  Cersei _did_ show hers, but was far more occupied with her intoxicated arguments with her husband.  Several times Ned had to step in between them to quiet them down, which was no easy feat since Robert could be quite loud.  Poor Myrcella was staying as far away from her parents as possible, following around Margaery Tyrell in an effort to enjoy herself.

Lyanna fell asleep in her chair about a quarter til eleven, so Sansa retrieved a blanket and wrapped her in it. Catelyn eventually wound up picking her up and taking her to one of the couches to snuggle with her, claiming that she’d rather have her grandbaby in her arms than do any more partying.  Ned joined her soon afterward, and Sansa smiled as she watched her parents snuggle Lyanna, thinking they probably would have been just as happy to stay home with her as throw this party.

For the rest of the night, Sansa made small talk with old friends and dodged suggestive questions from Margaery. Arya got a little bit tipsy and transformed into a giggly girl that Sansa hardly recognized.  Five minutes til midnight, the Stark girls stood arm in arm, waiting for the countdown to begin as well as the subsequent firework show.  It was then that Robb, looking as pale as ever, suddenly called everyone’s attention to himself.

“Uh, can I have everyone’s attention?” Robb waved a hand for emphasis and the buzz of conversation died down. He looked behind him at Jon, who was smirking at him a bit.

_Very unlike Jon_ , Sansa thought.  She peeked at Arya out of the corner of her eye, but her sister looked just as bewildered as she felt. 

Robb was quiet for a moment as he made sure he had everyone’s attention. He still looked pale and sweaty, and as he tugged on Jeyne’s arm to pull her out from behind him, Sansa was suddenly worried that he’d vomit on _her_ , if he didn’t pass out on top of her.

“The fuck is he doing?” Arya muttered. Louder, she said, “Oy, you arse!  You’re going to make us miss the countdown!”

Rickon, standing just behind Robb, smacked his forehead with an open palm and just shook his head. Bran raised his eyebrows at Arya and gave her a severe look.  Sansa was beginning to think that maybe everyone knew what was going on but her and Arya.  Sansa glanced over her shoulder at her parents, Lyanna still snoozing in Catelyn’s lap.  They looked expectant and a little anxious.

“So, as you all know, I met this wonderful girl a just under a year ago,” Robb’s voice cracked in places, and Sansa was astonished that he appeared _nervous_.  Then, it hit her. 

“Oh, my gods,” Sansa gripped Arya’s arm and hissed, “Arya, he’s going to propose!”

Arya’s head snapped around to her sister, grey eyes wide, and mouth falling open. “What?!”

“SHHHH!!!” Sansa pinched her arm.

“…and it’s been the best year of my life so far,” Robb was saying, eyes darting between the crowd and Jeyne, who seemed to have also caught on. Her eyes were shimmering already with unshed tears and she was giving Robb a wobbly smile.  “In fact, she’s probably the best thing to happen to me, ever.”

“Oh, come on, mate!” Theon said from somewhere to Sansa’s left. “I thought _I_ was the best thing to happen to you!”

Robb threw a glare at his best friend and Jeyne giggled nervously. Finally, Robb knelt in front of his girlfriend and from his fancy suit pocket produced a small, black velvet box. 

“Oh, my gods. Oh, my gods!”  Sansa was tugging on Arya’s arm in her excitement and her sister swatted at her.

“Jeyne Westerling, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Robb popped open the ring box.  Jeyne’s hands went to her mouth as she began nodding her assent. 

Sansa couldn’t see the detail of the ring, but the stones were large enough that they winked in the light of the fireworks that had just begun.

“We missed the countdown,” Arya hissed.

Sansa elbowed her. “Shut up, brat!”

Robb slipped the ring on Jeyne’s finger and stood up. His hands went around her waist and he pulled her in for a New Year’s kiss that sealed the deal on their engagement.  Jon cleared his throat, held up a flute of champagne, and said, “To new beginning!”

Everyone toasted to that, and Sansa rushed over to congratulate her oldest brother and his new fiancée. She squeezed Robb hard around the midsection, then remembered that he had been looking a bit queasy, and quickly backed off.  Sansa turned to congratulate Jeyne, hugging the smaller woman to her.

“Welcome to the family,” she said happily.

“Thank you!” Jeyne responded.  “It was certainly a surprise, but I couldn’t imagine saying anything but yes!”

“Let me see the ring!” Sansa said and Jeyne held out her hand so that Sansa could examine it. Robb had done very well.  The ring appeared to be white gold and there were three large emerald-cut diamonds displayed on the front.  The band was wrapped in the smaller diamonds.  “So gorgeous,” Sansa sighed.

She turned to Arya, who she knew didn’t usually care about jewelry, and was surprised to see that Arya was openly gawking at the ring. _Strange child_ , Sansa thought.  She knew it wasn’t Arya’s style, but they had grown up very well-off, and it wasn’t as if Arya had never seen an extravagant ring before.  When it didn’t appear that Arya was going to be able to say anything to Jeyne due to her queer examination of the ring, Sansa pulled her away.

“Why are you so weird?” Sansa groaned at her, shaking her head.

Arya blinked several times and then shook her head, seemingly snapping out of her trance. “Sansa…that ring…”

“Yes, yes, it was beautiful, and maybe a bit much for _your_ taste, but…”

“ _Sansa!_ ”  Arya growled.  “Listen to me…I think I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

Arya nodded emphatically. “That ring…that’s the ring I found in Gendry’s nightstand.  I thought it was much too garish for my taste and of course, I was angry that I had _just told him_ that I wasn’t interest in marriage…”

“Oh,” Sansa said, catching up with Arya’s revelation. “So, you’re saying Robb got Gendry to hold the ring for him?”

Arya chewed on her lip and nodded. “They’re become close, you know.  And Robb might not have trusted Theon to hold onto it because…well, it’s _Theon_.  I mean, Robb and Jeyne live together so he couldn’t very well hide it at their place.  I guess he could’ve asked Jon to hold onto it, but…for whatever reason, he asked Gendry.  And I’ve been being horrible to him because I was so mad…”

“Oh, Arya,” Sansa said, shaking her head. “You could’ve just confronted him about the ring.  When he didn’t propose at Sevenmas and he wasn’t here tonight, didn’t it kind of alert you to the fact that maybe everything wasn’t as it appeared?”

“No,” Arya said grouchily. “He’s stupid and stubborn and I thought he just didn’t want to listen.”

“That doesn’t sound like Gendry,” Sansa insisted.

“UGH! I’ve already said I was wrong,” Arya complained, glaring at Sansa as though it was all her fault.

“You don’t need to tell _me_ ,” Sansa reminded her.  “You need to tell Gendry.”

Arya tipped her head back toward the sky as the fireworks continued to explode above their heads. She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh.  “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Don’t sabotage your relationship over a misunderstanding,” Sansa laughed, and then stopped abruptly.

Isn’t that the very thing that she had done?

Arya didn’t seem to notice Sansa’s sudden change in demeanor. Her sister had already took off, gathering her purse and coat as she headed through the door.

“Arya!” Sansa called, catching up to her in the suite. “You can’t drive!  You’re tipsy!  And besides, Gendry’s still at work.  The bar is probably so full that no one else can get in right now.”

Arya’s shoulders slumped and she plopped in a chair. “I need to talk to him.”

“I doubt he’s going anywhere. Why don’t you let me take you home and you two can come get your car tomorrow?”

Arya nodded. “Go get your child.  I’m tired now and ready to go.”

Sansa went back out to the rooftop and pried Lyanna out of Catelyn’s arms, but not before removing her shoes. Catelyn then scurried over to talk to Jeyne and Robb.  Ned pressed a kiss to Sansa’s head and then made to follow Catelyn. 

The Stark girls took the elevator down to their level and Sansa tried not to cringe at the grimy feeling of the parking deck floor on the bottom of her stockinged feet. Sansa deposited Lyanna in her car seat.

Arya fell asleep quickly and so Sansa was left with her own thoughts about what she’d said to Arya.

_Don’t sabotage your relationship_.

Sansa had come close to doing what she warned Arya against. She could have potentially ruined a good thing because of the fear of _what might happen_.  She had already acknowledged that she had been unfair to Sandor.  After they had talked, he hadn’t seemed bothered by it, but now _she_ was.  It wasn’t that she had changed her mind and was suddenly ready to move in with him, but she thought back to how she felt before he asked her.  Laying in his arms, feeling safe in his embrace…it was a wonder to her that she had never felt that safe in her previous relationships.  She hadn’t felt physically safe with Joffrey and she hadn’t felt emotionally safe with Harry.  With Sandor, she felt both, and she recognized now that in her panic, she had tried to push him away with her overreaction.  In her own twisted way, she had been testing him, though she hadn’t _meant_ to.

Now that Sansa could think about the thoughts that had raced through her head during their fight, she acknowledged that maybe she was trying to force his hand. Perhaps she was pushing him to see how _far_ she could distance him from her.  Maybe she had been trying to get him to end it with her while it was still new, before he was so ingrained in her life that it would break her to lose him.

Sansa had done the same thing that Arya had done. She had tried to sabotage her own happiness.  She didn’t know really why Arya had done it, but Sansa knew that she had done it because she didn’t know what it was like to be _happy_ in a relationship.  And it was stupid really.  She didn’t _want_ to make herself miserable by ruining a good thing.  Somehow, even with all of her fears and flaws, Sandor was still willing to tough it out with her.  She had screeched a bunch of nonsense at him and he had still forgiven her. 

_One of the many reasons I love him so much_ , she thought absently. 

Sansa stomped on the brakes when she realized the form her thoughts had taken. Arya’s head pitched forward and then flopped back against the seat, but her sister continued snoring.

_For Seven’s sake, how did I just realize this?_

It wasn’t as though she had thought it by accident, after all. And Sansa recognized it for what it was so clearly that she didn’t even question herself.  She loved him.  Maybe she had loved him for a long time.  The voice that had been poking at her saying _it’s too soon for all that_ was muffled as Sansa lowered that self-imposed wall around her heart.  Because whether it was rational or not, whether or not it was smart, it was the truth.

She loved him.

It was such a stunning revelation that she barely recognized Arya’s house when she pulled up to it.

She shook her sister awake and reminded her to patch things up with Gendry.

“He can bring you to get your car tomorrow, or else Sandor and I will bring it to you,” Sansa said. Arya just nodded sleepily.

When Sansa arrived home, she carefully carried Lyanna to her room, impressed that her little girl hadn’t even stirred from being jostled around so much. Pupcake was wide awake, running in circles around Sansa’s legs and making little whining noises.  She lifted her up and kissed her on her head.

“Got lonely, Pupcake?” Sansa whispered to her.

Too tired to shower or remove her makeup, Sansa collapsed on her bed, still wearing her fancy dress, thinking that she needed to take her own advice.

_I need to talk to him,_ she thought. 

_I need to tell him I love him and that I’m an idiot and that I’ll never try to screw this up again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So normally I have a special folder just for chapters in editing...but considering that I am SO behind due to the crazy shit that's been going on, here is this chapter...so fresh that it hasn't been through the normal editing process! EEK! Sorry if it's a mess. This story has a pretty clear ending that we're getting to pretty quickly, and honestly I'm a little ready to get it all out there because I have other works I'm putting on hold until this is completely published! So. If this is messy, I'll fix it later. 
> 
> My personal goal is to have this finished before Thanksgiving.


	32. Going to beat the shit out of me, Clegane?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome surprise greets Sandor when he makes it home after a busy night.

(Sandor)

New Year’s Eve was an exhausting experience every year, but since he had places he’d rather be, Sandor figured this one was the worst so far. He’d already had to toss a few people, mostly little shit college guys who thought that had free reign to touch any girl they wanted.  He’d tossed a couple of people from trying to have sex in the bathroom.  He had tossed a woman in her mid-forties who tried to take her top off.

When last call rolled around, he muttered to an equally exhausted Gendry, “Didn’t sign up to be the bouncer of this place.”

“You’re the biggest fucker here, so it happened by default,” Gendry said back.

The crowd had died down a bit, but there were still a few stragglers. He hadn’t even had time to call or text Sansa the whole night and it was frustrating after spending so much time with her; besides that, he’d forgotten to charge his phone, so it was dead anyway.  He and his employees managed to get everyone out and close up in record time due to Sandor having scheduled every employee he had to work that night, including his old pal, Ray.

“Anxious to get home to that lady of yours?” Ray asked with the traces of a grin.

Sandor grunted noncommittally. He would have liked nothing better than to crawl into bed with Sansa, but it was after 2:00 a.m. and he was sure she was asleep by now; and though Lyanna normally slept like the dead, he didn’t want to run the risk of waking her at this hour by sneaking in Sansa’s house. 

He looked down at the keys in his hand, the one that fit into Sansa’s door sticking out because it was pink. Apparently, when Sansa had made spares of her house key, she had distributed them in bright colors.  Arya’s was teal, Catelyn’s was yellow, and so Sandor had gotten the pink one.  For a moment, his thoughts threatened to wander down a path of questioning that would do neither of them any good.  Why would she give him a key if she was so opposed to living with him?

But then, it wasn’t the same thing, and he truly _wasn’t_ bothered by her decision – it was more her _indecision_ that unnerved him.  One moment she was looking at him like he hung the moon, and the next moment she was terrified of progressing their relationship.  When in his darker moods, Sandor was sure that he would run her off at some point, likely over something he thought was ridiculous but that had a significant effect on her.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Sandor was relieved to live so close to work. His eyelids were heavy and as he pulled into his driveway, he almost missed the extra car parked in Sansa’s driveway.  In fact, it wasn’t until he opened his door that he froze at the sight of the slightly familiar sports car.  He stepped out of his truck and slammed the door a bit harder than necessary.  Sansa’s tiny car was parked in its usual place, but directly behind it was _his_ car.

Sandor’s mind ran through all the possible scenarios, none of which made sense. He walked to Harry’s car and peeked in, just to make sure Harry wasn’t still in it.  Then he walked up onto Sansa’s porch, made to slide his key in, and then stopped.  He lifted his hand to knock instead, but stopped short of connecting with the door.  He scowled at his reflection in the window, then turned on his heel and stomped back to his house. 

Sandor threw open the door, causing it to bang against the wall. He tossed his keys down blindly, completely missing the table where he normally kept them, and they clattered against the wood floor.  He paced through his dark living room, his long legs only taking him about three strides before he had to turn around and pace the other way.  There was a familiar energy pushing at him from the inside, threatening to spill over.

Stranger, who had been asleep on his bed, stretched and yawned, then watched his owner warily. After a few moments of failing to be acknowledged, Stranger found his way to the dog door and went outside for a break. 

Sandor had a momentary twinge of guilt, knowing he normally offered a warm greeting to his most faithful companion, but there was just too much going through his head to focus on being nice to his dog. His hands went into his hair, pulling lightly at the roots as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Harry was a piece of shit. It was known.  Anyone who had abandoned their child was not worthy of all the chances Sansa had given him.  But why else would he be there?  It was too late for him to be visiting Lyanna.  Had Sansa changed her mind about Harry and decided she could overlook how he had treated them?  Maybe her strange behavior at the God’s Eye had something to do with this.

Maybe Sansa had shied away from moving in with Sandor because she was secretly still seeing Harry.

Sandor brushed off the idea immediately. Sandor and Sansa had spent too much time together for Sansa to have betrayed him.  No, if she _had_ decided she wanted to be with Harry, it was likely a more recent decision.

Had his impromptu suggestion about moving in together made her realize that she didn’t want him after all? That didn’t seem right either.  Sandor had always prided himself on being able to spot a lie and Sansa had always been a terrible liar to boot.  All of the signals she was sending him gave every indication that she wanted him.  Or maybe Sandor had fallen for her so absolutely that he was completely blind to any treachery from her. 

He wanted to go back over there and bang on the door, demand what was going on. But his temper was about to hit a fever pitch and he knew it wasn’t a good idea.  His phone had died hours ago, but he decided to put it on the charger and text her in a few minutes.  He reached into his jacket pocket and scraped the bottom.  He checked his other pocket – nothing.  He dug through his pants pockets, also to no avail.

He retrieved his keys from the floor and jogged back outside to search his truck, digging through the console and peeking under the seats. He had lost his phone.  Or more likely, he’d left it in his office at the bar.

“Fuck!” He growled into the night, slamming shut his door a second time. 

He paced his driveway much the same way he had through his living room, unsure what to do, but knowing he couldn’t let this go. The calm thing to do might be to go to bed, sleep off his anger, and then figure out what was going on in the morning.

But what if Harry had forced his way into Sansa’s house? What if Sansa and Lyanna were in danger while he was stomping around outside like an idiot?  Harry didn’t seem the dangerous type, not like Joffrey had, but it was one of the few explanations he could come up with.  He strode back to the side porch and stopped in front of the door, hand in position, ready to bang on it until someone answered him.

Then he remembered that he had the keys. He stuck the bright pink key into the hole and listened as the door creaked and then caught – the chain was in place.  Sandor clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might break his teeth.  He shut the door back and went around to the back.  The chain wasn’t in place, so he let himself in, closing the door behind him as he entered the large family room.

He heard the clicking sound of paws, and then Pupcake was standing before him in the dimness of the light that hung over the sink, wagging her tail.

“You’re a terrible guard dog,” he told her. Damn dog never barked at anyone, unless she was happily excited.

He crept through the kitchen with her at his heels. He could hear voices now, speaking quietly, coming from Sansa’s bedroom.  Though he was a large man, he was quite good at being quiet when he needed to.  He knew every board in Sansa’s wood floor that would creak, so he avoided stepping in those places.  When he rounded the corner in the hallway, he could see that Sansa’s light was on through the crack under the door.

Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on in there. The light was on and they were clearly speaking, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to act out if he found them in a compromising position.  He turned around to Lyanna’s door, which was open.  By the faint glow of her night light, he could see her curled in her bed, cuddling with a stuffed pony.  Her chubby little cheeks were flushed and her mouth hung open, drool dribbling down her chin.

His chest hurt when he thought about what would happen if Sansa had chosen to go back to Harry. He would lose Sansa, which would damn near kill him, but he’d lose his little bro too.  And even though she shared no DNA with him, everything in his being told him that she was his kid. _Mine_ , he thought as watched her. _She’s mine._

The sound of the door opening behind him had him spinning quickly, startling a shocked Sansa.

“Sandor?” She was wearing an oversized tee shirt, _his tee-shirt_ , and her hair was down.  But behind her stood Harry.  And though he was fully clothed, the knowledge that he was standing in Sansa’s room made Sandor want to break his neck.

His hands curled into fists and he noted that they shook slightly. Sansa noticed too, because her eyes darted down to where he held them at his sides.  Her eyes widened suddenly and her head whipped back around to Harry, whose eyes were just as wide.

“Harry’s drunk,” she blurted, turning back to Sandor, her cheeks flushing. “He came over here and I wanted him to leave, but he refused to get in the cab I called for him.  I didn’t want him to drive because…you know…he’s drunk…”

Sandor held up his hand to stop her babbling. “Why is he in your bedroom?”  The question was asked through gritted teeth and he watched as color flooded Sansa’s cheeks.

She shook her head. “He was being loud.  I didn’t want Lyanna to wake up, and outside of the bathroom and the other bedroom, this is the only room with a door…”

 Sandor’s eyes shifted to Harry, who unlike Sansa, had lost all color.  He was pale and frightened-looking. _Not completely stupid, are you_?

“I didn’t want him to get in a wreck,” Sansa said, stumbling less over her words as she squared her shoulders back. “He drove all the way here from King’s Landing without hurting anyone and I was afraid he wouldn’t make it back with the same luck.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Sandor growled.

Her composure faltered and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. “I-I didn’t want to get him into trouble.  I thought if he just stayed here and slept off the booze that he could leave first thing in the morning.”

“In your bedroom?”

Sansa groaned. “No!  I wanted him in the living room or _really_ I wanted him to take a cab,” she snapped, looking over her shoulder at Harry.  “But he wouldn’t get in the cab.  Once I got him back in here, he was being loud, so we went to my room and closed the door.  The last thing I want is for Lyanna to wake up with him here.”

Sandor shook his head, hardly able to believe any of this. Why was Harry at her house in the first place? 

“I think I’ll sleep in my car,” Harry muttered, squeezing by Sansa, careful not to touch her. He found himself toe to toe with Sandor, who refused to let him squeeze by.

“Tell me why the fuck you’re here,” Sandor demanded.

Some of Harry’s fear abated as he stood there staring up at Sandor. He glared at him.  “And what will you do if I don’t tell you?  Going to beat the shit out of me, Clegane?  Are you such a brute that you’d wake my daughter to do so?”

Sandor wanted to do just that, but he abruptly stepped back, allowing Harry to pass. Harry made his way through the small, front living room to the side door where he tried to pull the door open, also got caught by the chain, and then hastily closed it back, removed the chain, and made his way outside.

Sansa sighed heavily and made to follow him, but Sandor caught her arm. “ _What are you doing_?”

Sansa spun around and yanked her arm from his grasp. “I _told_ you that he’s drunk.  I don’t want him to kill himself or someone else.  I’m going to take his keys away.”  With that said, she quickly made her way outside. 

Sandor walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He couldn’t imagine what Sansa was saying to Harry right now.  Was everything she told him the truth?  Did she even want him here now?

Every instinct told him to go outside and beat Harry to a pulp. But he sat there, waiting for Sansa to figure out a way to get rid of him, hoping that Harry would be more amenable to a cab now that Sandor had appeared.  He couldn’t imagine what Harry had wanted to talk to Sansa about.  What was left to be said after betraying Sansa and abandoning Lyanna? 

Sandor worked on calming himself because he realized he was mad at Sansa too. Letting Harry in had been a terrible decision and even if her motives had been innocent, it angered him that she would let another man in her house – specifically one that she’d been involved with.

After he sat there for a while, trying to get his anger under control, it occurred to him that Sansa and Harry had been outside for longer than what was strictly necessary to put him in a cab and see him off. And Sansa was wearing nothing but a tee shirt, so she was probably freezing.  He stood from his seat, grabbed one of Sansa’s hoodies that hung from the coat rack near the door, and walked outside.

The image that met him stirred murderous thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to back-track to explain what's going on...


	33. I love him.  But even if I didn't, I'd still be done with you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is awakened by an unwelcome visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been posting weekly, usually on Mondays, but this story is about done and I figured, why not? So here's this. Happy Halloween!

(Sansa)

Sansa had almost drifted off to sleep when she heard what sounded like a car pulling into her driveway. Her eyes popped open.  Sandor never parked in her driveway since there was no use in it.  Arya was hopefully home in bed and besides, her car was parked on the street since Sansa had driven it home.  She eyed Pupcake, whose ears perked up at the noise, though her eyes remained closed.

Groaning, Sansa got out of bed. She hadn’t even flipped her light out before she’d collapsed in exhaustion.  She pulled back her curtain on her window, but she couldn’t see anything from this angle.  If anyone had pulled into her driveway, they had pulled up far enough that they’d be directly behind her car. 

Sansa left her room, checked on Lyanna quickly, and then crept to the side door where she peered through the glass pane.

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

Harry’s red sports car was parked directly behind her car, so close that even Lyanna would have a hard time squeezing between the bumpers. His driver’s door was open and he was struggling to get out.  Sansa backed away from the door.  She was not prepared for this. 

She retrieved her phone from her purse and tried to call Sandor. It went straight to voicemail.  She typed a quick text, asking him to call her if he was available.  Phone still clutched in her hand, she crept back to the door, trying to minimize her movement so Harry wouldn’t notice.  He was now attempting to climb the two steps onto her porch without stumbling.

Harry was clearly drunk and if Sansa hadn’t noticed by the way he held himself, the bottle of whiskey clutched in his left hand removed any doubt. Sansa jumped back from the door when he walked in front of it, but instead of turning to knock, he passed it and dropped into a chair.

Sansa checked her phone again quickly, willing Sandor to reply back to her message. She slid down against the wall and quickly typed him another message.

_Sansa: Harry is here!  I don’t want to bother you, but I’m not sure what to do with him…he’s sitting on the porch._

Three quick knocks on the door startled Sansa so badly she dropped her phone and let out a yelp. Her eyes snapped up to the window to see Harry standing there, his head pressed against the glass, looking at her pitifully. 

But she didn’t feel pity for him. Instead, her temper spiked and she stood up, flipped the lock, and yanked the door open, causing Harry to jump back.

“What,” she ground through her teeth, “are you doing here?”

She could smell the liquor wafting off of him and crinkled her nose. Harry had never been a drinker, so it was a shock to see him standing on her porch, three sheets to the wind.  She didn’t want him in her house, so she stepped outside, still wearing her fancy dress and asked him again, “What do you want?!”

“Sansa, Sansa, _Sansa_ ,” he slurred, sitting back down in the chair, the whiskey bottle dangled from his fingers precariously.  “I tried to stay away.  I can’t…”

“You have stayed away,” she cut him off sharply. “I haven’t minded much though.  You see, Harry, I’ve realized that you’re a pretty terrible boyfriend.  I wasted too many years on you.  But I thought maybe you’d grow up enough to be a parent.”

The bottle slid from Harry’s fingers and clattered against the porch without breaking as it hadn’t fallen far. He stood from his chair, hands on his hips.  “That’s it though, isn’t it?”  He looked at her as though he was stating the obvious, but Sansa hadn’t a clue where this was going and she was already short on patience.

“You need to leave.”

Harry ignored her. “I loved you, Sansa.  I really did.  No, I still do.  But you came at me with this family bullshit…”

“You _proposed_ to me!”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, Sansa? You got fucking pregnant and it was expected of me…”

Despite the cool air of the very early morning, Sansa felt heat rush over her entire body as her blood pressure spiked. She wanted to physically shake him.  At no other time had she ever felt the need to bodily harm someone.

“I suppose I just got pregnant all on my own then?” Her voice was deadly quiet and sounded calm, though she was far from it.

“Is it not your responsibility to take care of your body?” He snapped at her.

“We were together, Harry. We weren’t casually dating.  It wasn’t a one-night stand.  If you didn’t want a child, then perhaps you should have said something when I first told you I was pregnant.”

Harry shook his head and pointed a finger at her. “You wouldn’t have given her up.  We both know that.  If I had told you I didn’t want to be a father, you would’ve still chosen her and I would’ve lost you then.  So I _tried_ , Sansa.”

“Did you really, though? Because I’m having a hard time recalling you _ever_ putting in the effort.  Even before we split, there was very little trying on your part.”

“You tried to force me to be something I’m not! I wasn’t ready to be a father.  I may never be ready!”

“Then _why are you here?!_ ”

“Because of you! I _love_ you, Sansa.  I’m a mess.  I’ve been unfaithful.  I’ve taken you for granted, I know.  But I can’t let you go.”

“You have to,” Sansa said simply. “It’s as you said.  I would have chosen Lyanna over you years ago and I will do it now.  But even if she wasn’t a part of the equation, I would be done.  I don’t love you, Harry.”  She almost added _I’m sorry_ out of habit, but she didn’t; because she wasn’t sorry.

Suddenly Harry’s face changed from one of misery to anger in the span of a second. “But I’m sure you love Clegane, right?  That’s what you’re going to tell me?”  He laughed without a trace of humor.  “You’re going to try to run me off by telling me you don’t love me, but you _do_ love that ugly brute?”

Sansa blinked, breathed in deeply through her nose, and then released it. “Yes.  That is exactly what I’m going to tell you.  I love him.  But even if I didn’t, I’d still be done with you.”

Sansa spun around and walked back into the house, slamming the door in Harry’s face. She had resolved that she was going to call him a cab, but not knowing how long the wait would be, decided to get comfortable.  She went to her room, stripped out of her dress, and found one of Sandor’s huge tee shirts in her drawer.  She dropped it over her head, and then set to calling Harry a cab.

Then, she sent another text to Sandor.

_Sansa: Harry is still here.  Drunk, might I add.  I’m handling him though.  You’d be proud of me_ _J Just called him a cab._

Sansa wasn’t sure if the cab would take him from Rosby all the way back to King’s Landing, but she didn’t truly care either. He could get a hotel somewhere.  As long as he left her house safely, she didn’t much care where he ended up.  She walked back out to the porch to see that Harry was still there, now looking at his empty whiskey bottle forlornly as it had spilled when he’d dropped it earlier.

Harry stood and wobbled his way to his car, and before Sansa really knew what he was doing, he’d cranked it.

_Oh, no. No, no, no!_  

She wasn’t about to let him put someone in danger again. She threw open the door and ran out into her driveway, caught Harry’s door just before he closed it, and leaned in over him to yank the keys out of the ignition.

“You are _not_ putting someone’s life in danger by driving in this state!” She yelled in his face.

Groaning, but without much of a fight, Harry stumbled back out of the car once Sansa had moved out of his way. She tossed the keys into his passenger seat as he walked around in her yard aimlessly.

“I’ve called you a cab,” Sansa told him.

“I’m not leaving,” Harry said, turning to her and almost losing his balance.

“You are. I don’t want you here.  I don’t want you around my child.”

“Oh, so _now_ she’s your child, not ours,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’ve come to some realizations lately,” Sansa said quietly. “And I’m done with wishing that you’d step up.  Now, I just wish you’d get out of her life for good so that there’s no more confusion about how you feel.”

“Clegane help you come to this realization of yours,” he slurred.

“What if he has? I’m naïve, I’ll admit it.  I thought maybe you had trouble bonding with her when she was a baby.  It’s not too terribly uncommon.  Then I thought perhaps you would have preferred a boy.  But yes, Sandor _did_ help me come to that realization because somehow in _less than four months_ , he has been more of a father than you have in three years.”

“Works out for everyone then doesn’t it? Lyanna gets a daddy.  You get someone to take care of you.  And as long as Sandor plays nice with our kid, he gets to fuck you.  Everyone wins!”

Sansa stomped toward him and was about to let all hells break loose when the cab pulled up at the curb. She glanced at the car, and then back at Harry, and held her arm out to the cab in invitation.  “Your ride is here.”

“I’m not getting in,” he growled at her.

Sansa walked down to the cab and threw open the back door. The driver’s eyes were wide, and clearly the young man could tell that something was going on. 

“You okay, Miss?” He asked.

Sansa nodded. “I’m fine.  I don’t need the ride,” she jerked a thumb behind her.  “He does.”

Harry resolutely stood at the top of the slope, arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head defiantly.

“Harry, get in the cab!” Sansa shouted, then felt terrible because she knew her neighbors were trying to sleep.

Harry didn’t move a muscle. Sansa turned back to the driver, who was looking between the two of them warily.  “Has he done something to you?  Are you sure you don’t want to just leave?”

“My child is in the house,” Sansa explained impatiently. “He doesn’t live here and he isn’t welcome.”

“Maybe you should call the cops?” The driver said uneasily, clearly thinking that he was in over his head.

Sansa groaned and looked back up the hill where Harry was now stumbling back to his car. Sansa slammed the door shut and raced up the hill, her feet protesting against the hard, cold ground.  She ran around to the passenger side of Harry’s car, but Harry had already snatched the keys off the seat.

“Harry, do not start this car!” Sansa begged. “You could really hurt someone.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Fine.  I won’t go anywhere.  I’m going to wait here until you talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you!” Sansa said coldly before slamming the passenger door. She had slammed way too many doors in the last few minutes and suddenly she was worried that her _neighbors_ would call the cops.  To her dismay, she saw that the cab that had been sitting near Arya’s car had pulled away while Sansa had retrieved Harry’s keys.  Satisfied that she had Harry’s keys, she went back into the house, closing the door behind her.

Sansa checked her phone, but Sandor hadn’t answered her back. She tried to call him and it went to voicemail again. This time, she left one:

“Hey, it’s me. Listen, Harry is being an arse right now.  I can’t get him to leave.  I don’t want to call the cops because he hasn’t _threatened_ me.  He’s just sitting in the driveway right now.  Don’t be alarmed when you get here.  I’m fine.  He won’t hurt me.  Just…call me back when you can.  Please.”

Despite the fact that Sansa had been exhausted not a half hour ago, now she was fully awake. She checked on Lyanna once again, who hadn’t moved.  Pupcake was sitting in the hallway halfway between Sansa’s and Lyanna’s rooms. 

“You could’ve barked to let me know he was here,” she told her pup. “You could go bite his ankles or something too.”

Pupcake cocked her head to the side curiously, as if the thought of a physical attack baffled her. Sansa rolled her eyes and was headed back to her room when she heard a loud banging against the side door.  Sansa’s head snapped to Lyanna, who stirred a bit at the noise.  She took off running back to the living room.

“What in the seven hells, Harry?” Sansa hissed as she opened the door.

“You can’t keep ignoring me, Sansa!”

“SHHH! Lower your voice now, or I swear to you I will call the police.”

Harry glared at her, but managed not to yell. “I have things I need to say, Sansa.”

She almost told him that she didn’t care. She really didn’t.  Sansa was beyond caring about what Harry felt for her.  She was no longer interested in playing nice with him.  She thought maybe if she let him say his piece, then he would leave her alone.  At first, she wanted to direct him back outside because the thought of him in her house made her uncomfortable.  But it was quite cold.

With a twitch of her head, Sansa indicated that Harry should follow her. Pupcake scrambled out of their way as they turned the corner in the hallway and entered Sansa’s room.  She didn’t want this idiot to wake her child, but she also didn’t want to stand outside in the cold and potentially have the cops called on the both of them.  She pondered again if _she_ should call them on him, but didn’t want to be too dramatic.  He wouldn’t physically hurt her, she was sure.  He would just annoy her.

Sansa closed her bedroom door and crossed her small bedroom, putting as much distance between herself and Harry as she could. “Well?”

Harry put his back to the closed door, as if sensing he needed to stay as far away from Sansa as possible. “First of all, I have not been dating Shara…”

“Oh, you mean our therapist you showed up with to my family’s Sevenmas party?”

“She was just with me to provide support because I was worried that I would be received badly. Turns out, I was right.”

“Yes, because you showed up with _our therapist_.”

“Shara…”

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up as if to indicate that the use of her first name was a good indicator that she was no longer a therapist.

Harry, even in his drunkenness, caught on. “ _Dr. Hudson_ , I mean, is nothing to me.  I thought she could help me get past all this.  But I can’t get over you, Sansa.”

“You’re going to have to, Harry. I’m done with you.  I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Harry’s blue eyes flashed angrily. “Because of Clegane?  Someone comes in here, pretends to be friends with your kid, and suddenly our past means nothing to you?”

“I was done with you before I knew Sandor lived next door,” Sansa reminded him. “I left you, remember?”

Harry stared hard at her for several seconds. “So you are telling me that you wouldn’t have eventually come back?”

“I wouldn’t have. I missed you at first.  And maybe we had some happy times, but I realized that a few good times don’t out-weigh the shit you put me through.  I was completely faithful to you.  I thought you had _saved_ me after surviving Joffrey.  The truth is, you destroyed as much of me as he did.”

Harry pushed himself off the wall and took two steps toward her, then thought better of it. “How can you say that?!”  His face was turning red as his anger took over.  “I never laid a hand on you, Sansa.  I wouldn’t!  I…”

“SHHH!” She hushed him.  She’d heard something.  She didn’t think it was Lyanna because her three year old would never think to sneak through her own house.  None of her creaky floorboards had given anything away and her useless, friendly puppy dog was more likely to lick someone to death than bark.  Had she left the door unlocked when she’d let Harry in?

Sansa took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Sandor spun around instantly, looking at her with wide grey eyes.

“Sandor?” She felt heat rush to her cheeks. _Oh, gods!_ This was the worst possible time for Harry to be acting like an ass.  She watched as Sandor’s huge hands curled into fists at his sides and the very real possibility that he may hit Harry had her belly clenching in fear.  She tossed a glance back at Harry, and her _own_ urge to hit him resurfaced enough that she could forgive the clenched fists, so long as Sandor kept them to himself.

“Harry’s drunk,” Sansa continued, noting that she sounded a bit accusatory. “He came over here and I wanted him to leave, but he refused to get in the cab I called for him.  I didn’t want him to drive because…you know…he’s drunk…”  She wanted to explain her reasoning to him, but she could admit that had the roles been reversed, the scene would look suspicious.

Sandor held up his hand and she could see the tension in his jaw and in the narrowing of his eyes.

“Why is he in your bedroom?” It was a fair enough question, and Sansa truly had a logical answer.  It had made sense a few minutes ago, but now…

Sansa shook her head, more to clear it than anything else. “He was being loud.  I didn’t want Lyanna to wake up, and outside of the bathroom and the other bedroom, this is the only room with a door…”

 Sandor’s eyes jerked to Harry, his body language practically screamed _danger_ and she knew Harry, even in his drunken state, could pick up on the signals.

“I didn’t want him to get in a wreck,” Sansa told Sandor, steeling herself for a fight, but determined to make him see her side of things. “He drove all the way here from King’s Landing without hurting anyone and I was afraid he wouldn’t make it back with the same luck.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Sandor growled. Another very logical question.

_Why_ hadn’t _she called the cops?_

Her true answer didn’t make as much sense as it had earlier, but she decided to tell him anyway, knowing he could tell if she was lying to him. “I-I didn’t want to get him into trouble.  I thought if he just stayed here and slept off the booze that he could leave first thing in the morning.”

“In your bedroom?”

Sansa resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a child. “No!  I wanted him in the living room or _really_ I wanted him to take a cab,” she glared over her shoulder at Harry.  This was all his fault.  “But he wouldn’t get in the cab.  Once I got him back in here, he was being loud, so we went to my room and closed the door.  The last thing I want is for Lyanna to wake up with him here.”

Sandor shook his head and she panicked, worried he didn’t believe her.

“I think I’ll sleep in my car,” Harry muttered and squeezed by Sansa, careful not to touch her. If he had, Sandor may not have held onto his control.  It seemed to be hanging by a thread anyway.

And Sandor was so large he blocked the entire tiny hallway, so when Harry made to turn the corner, he was toe to toe with a six-and-a-half foot mass of angry muscle.

 “Tell me why the fuck you’re here,” Sandor growled, low and dangerous. 

Sansa felt a catch in her breathing, praying to herself _please don’t hit him, please don’t hit him, Lyanna is asleep just a few feet away. Please don’t let Harry be an idiot and say something stupid…_ But it was too late for that.

“And what will you do if I don’t tell you? Going to beat the shit out of me, Clegane?  Are you such a brute that you’d wake my daughter to do so?” 

Sansa watched as the corner of Sandor’s mouth twitched and his grey eyes burned with fury. When he slid back to let Harry pass, Sansa let out a sigh of relief.  She still couldn’t let Harry drive though, so she took off after him, hell-bent on wrestling his keys away from him.  She was stopped by large, warm fingers circling around her wrist and drawing her back.

“ _What are you doing_?”  He sounded angry, likely because she was following Harry, but she had _already explained_ why Harry shouldn’t drive.

Frustrated and out of patience, Sansa yanked her arm from his grip. “I _told_ you that he’s drunk.  I don’t want him to kill himself or someone else.  I’m going to take his keys away.” 

Sansa followed Harry out the door and called to him, “Hey, I’d feel better about all of this if you gave me your keys!”

“I’m not a child, Sansa!” Harry shouted back, sounding very much like a petulant child.

“Then stop acting like one and _please_ give me your keys!”

Harry stumbled a bit as he stepped out of his car, and Sansa realized that despite some of his clarity during their argument, he was still quite drunk. He slapped a hand against his face and pulled it down, groaning.

“Why did fucking Clegane have to show up?” Harry muttered. “We can’t have a conversation without him lurking around the corner.

“We can’t have a conversation,” Sansa said, “because I have nothing else to say to you.”

“If you don’t care about me, then why won’t you let me leave?”

“I told you, Harry. I’m not willing to let you hurt someone else in the state you’re in.”

“But it’s okay if I die? Is that it?”  Harry slammed his car door and spun on his heel, almost losing his balance again.  “Fine.  I’ll walk then.”

Sansa ran after him and tugged on his dress shirt, unwilling to actually touch him. “Do _not_ walk, Harry!  I don’t want you to die, for Seven’s sake!” _So dramatic_ , she thought.  “Just…sleep in your car and when you wake up, you can leave.  Or better yet, let me call a cab and you can actually take it this time.”

Harry shook his head furiously, his face turning red as he found his temper. Unafraid of him, Sansa gave his shoulder a shove.

“Why are you trying to make things difficult, Harry? We are done.  I’ve moved on…”

“You’ve moved on with that huge, ugly asshole next door…”

“Do _not_ insult him.”

“Are you going to let me finish a sentence?” Harry practically whined.

“Everything that comes out of your mouth is _bullshit_ , so what does it matter?”

Harry laughed harshly without any mirth. “At least I’m not a fucking hypocrite, Sansa.  You’re torn up because Shara came to your parents’ house with me, but you’ve been fucking Clegane this whole time.  I’m not even dating, Shara…”

“My problem,” Sansa said through clenched teeth, “was that you moved on _while we were together_.”

“And what you did is so much better?”

“I didn’t cheat on you, Harry!”

“No, maybe not. But you _did_ jump into the nearest bed you could find as soon as you left me. _Literally_ the nearest bed,” he shook his head at her in disgust.  “Do you know how _desperate_ that makes you look, Sansa?  I mean, for Seven’s sake, you couldn’t even wait for a decent looking guy, you had to shack up with that fucking monster…”

His words were cut off as she slapped him across the face. He stumbled a bit in his drunken state, then looked up at her in shock.

Her hand stung from the slap and her eyes stung from the tears. _I can’t believe I just did that_ , she thought shamefully.  After all the times she’d been hit by Joffrey, she never imagined that she would raise her hand to anyone.  The hand she’d slapped him with balled into a fist.  She didn’t know what to say to him. 

Harry’s hand fell away from his face and the shock turned to outrage. He took three steps toward her quicker than she could react and grabbed her wrist, squeezing until her fist uncurled and her fingers shook.  It happened so fast that she didn’t even have enough time to be afraid.


	34. What a way to start off the New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is done with Harry's shit, and Sandor struggles to hold onto self-control.

“Get your hands off her,” a voice growled from behind her, and Sansa’s head snapped around to her see Sandor standing not five feet away, still as death. Her porch light illuminated his face, terrifying as it twisted with rage. 

Harry blinked up in confusion, but before he could open his mouth to hurl another insult, Sandor had closed the distance and shoved him away from Sansa so forcefully that Harry practically bounced off his car. Too shocked to speak, Sansa rubbed at her wrist where Harry had grabbed her.

“ _You!_ ”  Harry snarled ferociously at being manhandled in such a way.

“Aye, me,” Sandor said, his voice dangerously quiet.

Sansa stepped toward Sandor, grasped at his forearm. “Leave him be, Sandor,” she said softly, sensing the danger emanating from Sandor’s entire body.  “He was just leaving.  Weren’t you, Harry?  I’m going to call him another cab.” _Please, Harry, for once in your life, don’t be stupid._

Harry’s eyes moved between the two of them. His lips thinned and he seemed to be shaking with anger.  He shook his head.  “No…no, you know, I don’t think I will leave.  No cabs, Sansa.  I’m staying right here.”

_Idiot_ , Sansa thought, gaping openly at Harry.  Surely he was not about to pick a fight with Sandor.  Surely not.  He would never win.  He was far too drunk to realize the implications of starting a fight with Sandor. 

“Harry, look, you’re drunk,” Sansa tried to reason with him. “We can talk when you’ve sobered up.  Let me call you a cab, _please_.”

He shook his head again. “No, no, no.  I think I deserve some answers, Sansa.”  He cut his eyes at Sandor.  “And I’d like to do it without a third wheel.”

“Too damn bad,” Sandor rasped, taking a small step toward Harry.

“Tell me, Sansa,” Harry said, turning his attention back to her. “Why him?  Huh?  Maybe if you can explain to me why you would ever choose him, then I could move on.  It doesn’t make any sense.”

Sansa shook her head at him. “I don’t answer to you, Harry.  It doesn’t have to make sense to you.  It makes sense _to me_.”  For the first time that night, Sansa realized that she would probably have to call the cops on Harry.  She decided to tell him as much.  “Harry, if you don’t calm down and let me call a cab, I’m going to call the cops.”

“You’d do that? We have a child together, Sansa,” Harry said.  Some of the anger seemed to slip from his face and was replaced with something that looked like desperation.  “We have a history.  You’re the love of my life.  What am I supposed to do, just let you walk away from me?  I can’t do that, Sansa.  I’ve made so many mistakes, I know that.  But whatever you think happened between Dr. Hudson and I…I swear to you, _I swear_ , I have not slept with her.  Have I not been honest in the past about cheating?  And it’s not even cheating now because we aren’t together, but I promise you, I just needed her guidance on some things.”

“I don’t care,” Sansa whispered, though she was sure some part of her still did. She just wanted him gone.

Harry slumped against his car, his eyes moving over her face, looking for what, she didn’t know. “Sansa…”

“It’s time for you to go,” Sandor said, clearly losing patience.

Harry’s head snapped back to Sandor, the anger returning rapidly. “You are not her fucking boss, man!  Why can’t you get lost and let me talk to the mother of my child, huh?  Can you not respect that?”

“Harry…” Sansa said in warning, feeling Sandor’s muscles tense beneath her fingers where they still rested on his forearm. 

“No, Sansa, this needs to be said,” Harry stood up out his slump, jutting his chin toward Sandor. “He thinks he can come in and woo you through our daughter.  You’re letting him succeed.  Don’t you see?  I’ve told you so many times that he used her to get to you.  How do you think he’s going to treat Lyanna once he’s trapped you?  Look at him, Sansa. _Look at him!_ ”  Harry shoved himself away from his car and took a step toward Sandor.  “What do you think his past is like, Sansa, hmm?”  Harry was speaking to her, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off the large man to her left.  “Violence begets violence.  I know about his family, his brother’s past.  I know about how he nearly beat a man to death.  What do you think that means for you, Sansa?  One day he’s just going to snap and you or Lyanna are going to be in the way.  How can you be that stupid?!”

“Leave, Harry,” Sansa hissed through clenched teeth. “Leave now.”  She was beyond caring at that point.  All of her earlier concern about him having a wreck flew out the window after his disgusting words.  He could walk, he could drive…she didn’t care anymore.

Harry’s eyes finally snapped back to her, his nostrils flared, and his fists curled at his side. Sandor shook her hand away and stepped back away from Harry’s car, clearly thinking that Harry would comply with Sansa’s command this time.  Sansa made to step back as well, but then Harry snatched her upper arms and pulled her to him, planting a hard, sloppy kiss on her mouth.

She shoved him away, swiping a hand over the back of her mouth. But before she could get her bearings enough to yell at him, Sandor had grabbed him and thrown him back against his car.  He drew back his massive arm and threw a fist at Harry’s face.  It connected with a sick crunching noise.  Blood spurted from Harry’s nose and he shouted in pain.  Then Sandor drew back again, this time landing a punch on his jaw.  Then he drew back again, pummeling Harry in the stomach.

When he drew back a fourth time, Sansa finally snapped out of her shock and yelled, “NO, stop!!”

Sandor immediately dropped his fist to his side, shoved Harry once again for good measure, and then took three steps back, watching Harry coldly. Harry slid down to the ground, clutching at his bleeding nose.  Sansa covered her mouth, unable to believe what had just transpired.  Her phone was somewhere in the house, and she felt suddenly helpless standing outside in the freezing temperatures in nothing but a tee shirt.  She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she needed to get Harry away from her house as soon as possible.  Her eyes flickered to Sandor, ready to ask him what to do, when he looked up at her.

He looked almost… _confused_ , and maybe even a bit regretful.  There was no time for that though, but before Sansa could voice her concerns, Sandor had started moving.  But he didn’t turn around and go in her house, but stomped across the driveway to his own.  She watched him, confused in her own right, before glancing back down at Harry.

Maybe Sandor had gone to call the cops on his phone?

Sansa turned around and jogged back into the house, plucking up a discarded hoodie that lay just outside the door. Sandor had probably been bringing it to her when he’d seen Harry grab her.  Sansa found her phone and, after sliding on the hoodie, as well as a pair of pajama pants, Sansa stepped tentatively back out onto the porch. 

Harry was still on the ground, but thankfully conscious. He kept looking at the blood covering his shirt and hands.  He’d probably never been punched before, which considering how he acted, was a miracle.

Sansa quickly dialed emergency dispatch and briefly told them of her situation, and within minutes, two police cars and an ambulance pulled up. Harry stared at the flashing blue lights for several seconds before looking up at her, mouth open in shock. 

Sansa kept glancing at Sandor’s house. He hadn’t turned on any lights and he hadn’t come back out. _What is he doing?_ The police would probably want some kind of statement since he’d been the one to pummel Harry, and she hoped beyond hope that Harry didn’t decide to press charges.

Sansa managed to put Sandor out of her mind for the moment as one of the officers came to take her statement. The paramedics saw to Harry as Sansa explained what had happened and how Harry had refused to leave.

“You do that to him?” The officer asked, wide-eyed but with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Sansa shook her head. “My…um, my boyfriend did it.  Harry grabbed me and kissed me.  Sandor pulled him off and, well…”

The officer nodded, then peered into the house behind her. “Your boyfriend still around?”

Sansa nodded in the direction of his house. “He lives next door.  He just…took off after he hit him.”

The officer turned around to look at Harry. “Seems he has a broken nose, but nothing too terrible.”

Sansa nodded in understanding. Sandor had actually showed some restraint, now that she thought about it.  It could’ve been much worse for Harry, but Sandor had dealt him three quick blows and had immediately stopped when Sansa had asked him to.  All in all, Harry was very lucky.

“So he won’t have to go to the hospital or anything?” Sansa asked, just to be sure.

The officer shook his head. “Not at all.  Broken noses aren’t all that serious.  Mine’s been broken four times.  He may need to get it reset, but I don’t think it calls for an ambulance ride.  I’m going to go talk to your boyfriend, see if he’ll give a statement.  What’s his name?”

“Sandor Clegane,” Sansa said, still wondering why he’d abruptly left her alone to deal with all this.

Sansa watched as Harry was cuffed and led down to a patrol car. Another officer assured her that a tow truck was being called for his car so that it wouldn’t block her driveway.  The officer she had spoken with was now standing on Sandor’s porch, and she could see Sandor standing in the doorway, over a head taller than the officer, answering questions cooperatively.

She hoped he wouldn’t be arrested for assault. Sansa had heard Harry telling the paramedics and the officer who had placed him under arrest about a “fucking savage” who had nearly beat him senseless.  They had patiently listened, but shared a few loaded looks that Sansa interpreted as meaning that Harry probably deserved what he got.  Sansa walked back through her house, just to check on Lyanna.  She crept into her room and saw that she was still fast asleep, thank the Seven.

One little leg was dangling off the bed and her arms were thrown over her head, but she snored peacefully. Sansa went to her and tucked her leg back under the cover.  Pupcake was now fast asleep as well, cuddled against her human under the blankets.  Sansa gave her daughter’s chubby cheek a quick peck, and then went out to see what was going on.

When Sansa stepped back out onto her porch, to her horror, she saw Sandor being guided into a patrol car, uncuffed, but clearly under arrest.

***

(Sandor)

_What a way to start off the New Year_.

The officer questioning Sandor had apologetically informed him that he would have to arrest him for assault since Harry hadn’t actually initiated an attack against him. Sandor figured as much and had held his wrists out to be cuffed.

“That’s not necessary,” the officer waved him off casually. “Just don’t give us any trouble.”

It was strange really. In the past, people had taken a look at his face and his size and would immediately assume he was dangerous.  But this guy, Officer Blackwater, didn’t seem at all scared of him.  He led him to the patrol car and Sandor ducked into it, barely avoiding smacking his head.  The officer walked around and dropped into his seat.

“Suppose the little cunt had it coming,” the officer said casually, shaking his head. “But you can’t go around pummeling people smaller than you.”

Sandor cleared his throat and tilted his head back against the seat, staring at the roof of the car. “He grabbed my girlfriend, then he _kissed_ my girlfriend.  What would you have done?”

“The same,” the officer admitted. “Especially with a lady that looks like _that_.”

Sandor’s head snapped up and he glared at the officer in the rearview mirror. A cocky smile stretched over his face and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s true though.  How did an ugly fucker like you manage that?”

“Keep on and you’re going to wish you had cuffed me,” Sandor muttered.

The officer laughed. “That’s what this is for,” he said, tapping the screened barrier separating the front seat from the back.  “Though I reckon if you wanted to get through it, it wouldn’t stop a big fucker like you.”

“Am I going to be able to post my own bail or do I have to wait for a judge?” Sandor changed the subject.

“Got a bail schedule, so you’ll be able to bail out after you’re booked. Same can’t be said for your victim though.  He’ll have to sober up first.”

It only took a few minutes to reach the jail, but it was enough time for Sandor to sink into a dark mood. On the one hand, he wasn’t sorry for hitting Harry at all.  The little shit had deserved to have his face rearranged a bit for touching Sansa.  On the other hand, now he was in the back of a patrol car on the way to jail, and he was fairly certain he’d just destroyed his relationship.

Is this how Sansa had expected it to happen? After their fight at the God’s Eye, it had occurred to Sandor that she possibly didn’t want to move in with him because she expected it to end.  Now, he wondered if she had somehow foreseen this.  Had she known Harry would be a problem that would keep cropping up like a damned weed?  Had she known Sandor would eventually snap on him? 

Sandor hadn’t known. He had thought Harry would eventually go away.  Hells, he hadn’t been a problem for three months.  It had only started again when he’d shown up at the Starks’ house for the Sevenmas party.  Sandor had worried that maybe seeing Harry had softened Sansa toward him again.  Harry was young and handsome and had a bright future as an attorney.  Sandor couldn’t imagine that she would want to be treated how Harry had treated her, but she had been a naïve little girl once who had thought she could soften Joffrey; maybe a bit of that girl still existed in the woman he had come to know.

But Sansa had explained that it wasn’t Harry’s presence that had bothered as much as the thought of him dating their therapist, another person Sansa had trusted who had betrayed her. After that conversation, Sandor had let it go and enjoyed himself until the fight.  Sandor had surmised that Sansa fully expected him to fuck up at some point.  Her words came back to him.  “ _Because there is obviously something wrong with my judgment!”_

He was part of that judgment of course. Sansa had picked Joffrey, who had beaten her down and nearly broken her before she’d gotten away from him.  Then she had picked Harry, who had betrayed her with other women.  Sandor had foolishly thought he was better than either of them.  He would never raise a hand to her, he’d never so much as look at another woman, but was he really better?

To Sansa, he was sure it looked like he had lost his temper, let go of his control, when he’d hit Harry. But the truth was, he hadn’t.  He had been incensed that Harry had touched her, but the blows he had dealt Harry were calculated.  He had _wanted_ to hit him.  He had wanted to hurt him, to teach him that he couldn’t just drop in and harass Sansa whenever he felt like it.  He had wanted Harry to know that laying his hands on Sansa would have consequences.

 No, Sandor hadn’t truly lost control of the situation because if he had, Harry wouldn’t have walked away from it with just a broken nose.  Sandor thought back on what he’d done to Meryn Trant.  If memory served, Trant had suffered numerous facial fractures, missing teeth, a fractured larynx, a broken jaw…and that was just his face.  Sandor had gotten out of that one easily enough because Trant had actually assaulted Sansa, so it had been a simple matter of Sandor defending someone.

Harry hadn’t actually hit either of them, so this time, though the beating was minimal compared to Trant, the arrest for assault made more sense. As far as his record was concerned, at worst, Sandor would have an assault charge hanging over his head, and at best, Harry would decline to press charges in light of whatever he was facing himself.

But truly, the worst that could happen was that Sansa would be done. The thought wouldn’t leave Sandor alone as he was booked into the jail, sitting in a chair across from Officer Bronn Blackwater, still absent any cuffs.  Harry hadn’t been so lucky, Sandor had noticed.  He had evidently decided to give his arresting officer a hard time and had been practically dragged into the jail, his toes sliding against the floor because he refused to walk.

Blackwater stopped tapping at his computer long enough to watch the scene in poorly disguised amusement. Sandor was too distracted by his own problems to enjoy any of Harry’s.  By the time he’d been booked and was able to post bail, he had started to feel a chasm opening in his chest the size of Sansa and Lyanna.  He was too ashamed to face her right now, and at any rate, he hoped she was finally getting sleep.

Sandor called Ray to pick him up, and thankfully the older man didn’t ask any questions over the phone. He pulled up just a few minutes after Sandor had called him and they left the jail together.  Ray offered to buy him breakfast in exchange for the story of how Sandor had been arrested.  The two of them sat across from one another at a 24-hour diner, eating greasy bacon and drinking terrible coffee as Sandor spilled the entire story.

“What made you do it?” Ray asked.

Sandor shrugged. “He deserved it.  He laid his hands on Sansa, so…”

Ray nodded, frowning down at his breakfast plate. “I can’t say I approve of your method for dealing with him, but I also know you’ve done worse, so why do you look so miserable?”

“Sansa’s going to end it,” Sandor answered gruffly.

“Ah,” Ray said, pinning him with those knowing eyes. “Didn’t approve of your method either, did she?”

Sandor dug his thumb and finger into his eyes, trying to press away the exhaustion he felt. “No.  She’s been abused before.  Probably gave her flashbacks of her ex.”

Ray was silent, watching him closely. “But you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”

Sandor didn’t answer his friend. Of course he would do it again.  He would do anything to keep Harry’s slimy hands off Sansa, whether she approved of it or not.  Sandor said nothing else, but finished his breakfast quickly and asked Ray to drop him off.

The sun was barely creeping over the horizon when he made it home. He sat on his front porch several minutes, staring at Sansa’s house, wondering if it would be worth it to try to apologize to her.  He had rehearsed in his head everything he thought he should say, but even in his own head, they all sounded bitter.

_I’m sorry for beating up your shit-stain ex-boyfriend_.  He wasn’t.

_I’m sorry for living up to your expectation of violence._ Of course, he was capable of much more.

_I’m sorry for proving you right and fucking up every bit of this._ That was the heart of that matter, wasn’t it?

Suddenly, he was angry; angry at himself, naturally, and angry at Harry too. But he was also angry at Sansa.  It seemed that she hadn’t had any faith in him.  She had started a relationship with him expecting him to let her down.

_“Because there is obviously something wrong with my judgment!”_

And, aye, she was right. There was something wrong with him.  She had known the whole time that he would do something to fuck this up and that’s why she’d scared so easily when he had shown that he was committed to her.  If Sansa had seen something in him, if she had known that he would do something that would repulse her, why even bother with him in the first place?

And then Sandor was thinking terrible things that he’d never anticipated would cross his mind: maybe he would’ve been better off if she had never moved in; maybe if she had never shown any interest in him, he could have moved on and avoided feeling like this.  Because surely, _surely_ , this fucking terrible feeling that had settled into his chest and his stomach was not worth the few months of happiness they’d had together.  He recognized the feeling as _loss_.  He had lost her.  He could feel it.  He’d been on his best behavior all these months, but evidently Sansa had known he would snap at some point and fuck it up.

And that feeling of loss would never have overtaken him if he hadn’t fallen completely in love with her. He would’ve went on with his boring, solitary existence, never knowing what it was like to hold her, to taste her mouth, to touch her skin, and so he would never have known this feeling of emptiness, of being gutted from the inside.

Sandor couldn’t face her. Any apologies he had thought of making to her would be false because he wasn’t sorry for hitting Harry.  He _wanted_ to be sorry for acting out, but Sandor was no liar and he was certainly not about to look Sansa in the eye with false remorse and tell her that if he could take it back, he would.  Deep in his dark soul, he believed that Harry had deserved his broken nose and bruised jaw.  How could he look at Sansa and lie to her about it? 

With clarity, Sandor realized he was no better than Joffrey or Meryn Trant. He hadn’t hit Sansa, would never have considered it, but he’d exposed her to violence all the same.  Sansa, soft and sweet; Sansa, who had endured several years of violence because of Joffrey; there was no way she could look at him and not be disgusted. 

Resolved, Sandor quickly packed a bag once he’d gotten into his house. His phone was still missing, so he opened his laptop and e-mailed his employees, then sent a private message to Ray.  It was probably best that he take a break from his phone.  Sandor called Stranger and let his huge dog jump into the passenger side of his truck, cracking the window enough that he could stick his nose out.  Sandor backed out of the driveway, and with a last look toward Sansa’s bedroom window, because he just couldn’t help himself, he left without so much as a good-bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....don't hate me....
> 
> Listen, though, I love some angst if it leads to a happy ending, so...yeah. I can't NOT do angst. 
> 
> Also, I really wanted a way to sneak Bronn in, and while he doesn't exactly fit as a cop (though he was the leader of the City Watch for a while).


	35. You disappeared without a word.  That’s not okay, Sandor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tries to figure out what the hell's going on and why her boyfriend won't return her calls.

(Sansa)

Sansa awoke to a poke in her ribs.

“Mommy!” Lyanna squeaked.  “I’m hungry!”

Sansa forced her eyes open and the squeezed them shut again, still completely exhausted from the eventful night.  _Or rather, early morning,_ she thought, glancing at the time on her cell phone.

It was only 9:15.  Sansa buried her face in her pillow and groaned.  Lyanna poked at her again.  She supposed she should have been happy that Lyanna had slept as late as she did.  She slid out of bed and stretched, blinking down at Lyanna.

It was still a wonder to her that her daughter had slept through the wild events that had taken place several hours before.  Lyanna looked well-rested and bright-eyed.  As if to support her claim, her little tummy rumbled and she gave Sansa a pointed look, then tapped at her belly.

“It needs food,” she said seriously.

Sansa smiled down at her and ruffled the unruly blonde hair atop her head.  “What would you like for breakfast?”

Lyanna followed Sansa into the kitchen. 

“San-more make pancakes?”

Sansa froze with her hand on the handle of the refrigerator door.  “He worked late last night,” Sansa said.  It wasn’t a lie.  He’d gotten off very late.

“Oh,” Lyanna said, sounding disappointed.  She named her favorite cereal next, and Sansa made her a small bowl and set her a place on the table. 

Sansa peered out her side window and noticed Sandor’s truck was missing.  She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, bewildered at what would’ve happened to it.  Surely it hadn’t been stolen?  Or had he already gotten home and then left again? 

Sansa retrieved her phone and stepped back outside to call the jail.  They confirmed that Sandor was not there and that he’d bailed out several hours before.  She went into her text messages to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.  Finding nothing, she then found his name in her address book, a photo of him and Lyanna peeking at her from the small square next to his name, and dialed his phone.

It went straight to voicemail just as it had when she’d tried to call him before.  At the tone, she decided to leave him another message.

“Hey,” her voice sounded unnatural, and she cleared her throat before continuing.  “I haven’t seen you.  I haven’t heard from you.  I’m worried, so just…call me back?  I hardly got to speak to you last night because of Harry…”  She trailed off and thought Sandor slamming his fist into Harry’s face to defend her.  He’d been taken to jail for that and it made her feel immensely guilty.  If she’d called the cops as soon as Harry had refused to leave, Sandor wouldn’t be in this mess.  “I’m sorry about everything with Harry.  I just want to know that you’re okay.  Please give me a call when you can.”

Sansa hung up and went back to check on Lyanna.  The first question was _where is San-more_ and not knowing how to answer her, Sansa vaguely told her that he was busy.  Lyanna would want to talk to him when he called back too, Sansa knew.  She hoped he wouldn’t make them wait long.

But as the day wore on, Sansa never got a call from him.  Arya, Catelyn, and Margaery all called her, but Sandor didn’t.  She hadn’t wanted to bug him, hadn’t wanted to intrude on any time he needed after dealing with Harry and the cops, but later that night she found herself texting him again.

_Sansa:  I’ve called you.  I’ve texted you.  You disappeared without a word.  That’s not okay, Sandor.  I’m worried sick about you.  Please let me know you’re alright._

_Sansa:  It’s been three hours since I texted you.  There’s no way you aren’t looking at your phone.  I know that I messed up with Harry and I know you were put through the wringer because of my decisions.  I’m sorry.  Please call me.  Or text me._

The next morning, she called him again, and once again, the call went to voicemail. 

“Sandor, I’m worried!” Sansa hissed into the phone, barely fighting back tears.  “The last I saw, you were being put into a police car.  I should’ve found a way to go with you, I know, but Lyanna was asleep.  Better yet, I should have called the cops as soon as Harry showed up here.  He has given me no reason to consider his feelings, I know that.  I’m so, so sorry that I got you into this.  I can understand if you don’t want to forgive me, but just _please_ let me know you’re okay.”

That night, she tried calling him again.  This time, when the call went to voicemail, she hung up without leaving a message.  She paced her family room as Lyanna sat in the floor playing with her stuffed animals.  Every few minutes, Lyanna would peer up at her curiously before going back to her game.  Sansa was beyond distraught.

_It’s my fault, all my fault._   Sansa hadn’t even tried to deny it.  The minute Sandor’s fist had connected with Harry’s face, the mantra had started in her head.  _My fault, my fault, my fault._   For all her pessimistic feelings on relationships lately, she had never imagined it would end like this.  She had never thought it would be so soon.  She hadn’t anticipated that she would be the one to screw up so thoroughly.

An uneasy feeling settled into her bones as she thought about what that meant.  Had she been waiting for him to screw up?  Had she been the one waiting for Sandor to do something so unforgiveable that she would walk away?  She’d accepted as much, told him as much.  He’d never given her any indication that he would hurt her, but she had expected it anyway.  _What a negative existence_ , she thought miserably.

But now, _now_ , he had hurt her.  She supposed that it was only fair that he had utterly abandoned her, considering what she’d put him through.  And shouldn’t this whole situation be a nail in the coffin of their relationship?  The whole debacle should have been a good reason for her to tell him, and herself, _I told you so_.  Had she not been waiting for something catastrophic to come along and end them?

Their relationship was certainly in a bad state.  She’d allowed her ex-fiancé to come into her home.  She had isolated the two of them _in her bedroom_ , for Seven’s sake.  She knew it didn’t look good.  Then Sandor had witnessed Harry _grab_ her wrist, and then he’d _kissed_ her.  She could only imagine the torture Sandor had gone through watching such a spectacle.

If he had cared about her, even all those years ago when she was with Joffrey like he claimed, then seeing Harry grab her likely triggered an old anger in Sandor.  Before the two of them had ever been involved, Sandor had slapped Joffrey around and nearly beat Meryn Trant to death because of the state he’d found Sansa in.  If he had been mad enough to beat someone up for a silly girl he barely knew, she could only imagine what it felt like to watch his girlfriend be manhandled before his eyes. 

Harry had had it coming, she knew that.  Though she wished that Sandor hadn’t gotten arrested, she also understood why he’d done it.  Harry had kissed her in front of Sandor to get a reaction; perhaps he hadn’t anticipated the reaction he _got_ , but he wouldn’t have so blatantly disrespected Sansa if it had been just the two of them.  Harry had ample opportunity throughout his “visit” to her house to pull something, but he hadn’t done it until after Sandor had shown up.

Thinking back, Harry had gotten off light.  Sansa had been afraid at first that Sandor was so angry that he’d pummel Harry into oblivion.  He could have.  But all it had taken was Sansa’s order to stop, and he’d done it.  More than that, the worst he’d done to Harry was a broken nose.  And while Sandor could’ve shoved him off of Sansa or merely separated them, she didn’t fault him for hitting Harry.  In her opinion, Harry had needed a wake-up call in the form of a fist to the face. 

The guilt came because Sansa knew that she had pushed Sandor into that situation just as much as Harry had.  And now he wouldn’t speak to her.  She wasn’t ready to end their relationship because Sandor had messed up.  She had messed up too!  Harry had messed up too, for that matter.  It was clear to her now that she could tolerate some mess-ups in order to continue to be with him.

Sansa dug her fingers into her hair, pulling it behind her head and off her neck.  She was overwarm from all the pacing and the anxiety.  With every circuit she took around her family room, she felt more and more certain that she had been wrong about so much. 

Messing up wasn’t the end of the world.  Sansa wasn’t even _mad_ that Sandor had hit Harry.  She was mad that he was completely ignoring her, but it seemed that she was at least partially responsible for getting them here.  She resigned herself to thinking that she would just have to wait until he got home before confronting him about the whole thing.

In desperation, she sent a text to Arya asking if Sandor had been at work.

**Arya:  Idk…I don’t work there.**

_Sansa:  But you know someone who does._

**Arya:  ugh I knew u were going to drag gendry into this somehow.**

_Sansa:  Drag??  I just want to know if he’s seen him!_

**Arya:  He said he hasn’t been at work.  Has all his shifts covered for 2 weeks tho.  Gendry said ray passed them the info, but that he never said where he was…**

_Sansa:  could he ask him…?_

**Arya:  NO!  Go ask him yourself**

So Sansa did.  Arya agreed to watch Lyanna while Sansa took a lunchtime trip to the bar.  She had never spoken to Ray, but Gendry and Sandor had both spoke of him with some affection.  It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was.  Sansa strolled into the bar and took a seat in the middle, immediately catching Ray’s eye.

He smiled at her warmly and his eyes twinkled.  “I don’t believe I’ve officially had the pleasure to meet you, my dear,” he said, holding out his hand.  “But I take it you are Sansa Stark?”

Sansa nodded and smiled back at him.  “I am.  And I know who you are as well, sir.”

“Aye, I imagine your fellow has some things to say about me,” he laughed. 

Sansa cleared her throat and looked at him seriously.  “Actually, he’s why I’m here.”

Ray nodded as though he already knew that.  “I’m assuming you also know that he isn’t here.”

“Right,” Sansa whispered, nervous that Ray wouldn’t give her any information.  “But I was also told that you might know where he is?”

Ray frowned and looked away from her.  “He didn’t explicitly tell me where he was going, but I have an idea.”  His eyes swung back to her face, eyeing her knowingly.  “I think you might have an idea too.”

Sansa thought for a moment, completely bewildered by what he meant.  Then it her.

“The cabin?  Did he go back to the cabin?” She sounded desperate, even to her own ears, and Ray gave her a pitying look.

“I told you, my dear, he didn’t tell me for sure.  I don’t think he wanted anyone to know.”

“He isn’t answering my calls,” Sansa told him frantically.  “I haven’t heard from him in days.  I don’t know how much trouble he’s in or if he’s okay…”

“Oh, the charges were dropped,” Ray assured, and she felt a sigh of relief leave her body in a whoosh.  “Whoever he walloped decided to let it go apparently.”

Sansa was surprised Harry would do such a thing, but she believed Ray.  “Then why hasn’t he let me know he’s okay?”

“Might be he’s not,” Ray scratched at the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish.  “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, Miss Stark, but he seemed pretty convinced that you were done with him.”

Sansa’s mouth dropped open.  “Why??  Why would I be done with him?  Why would he assume such a thing when he wouldn’t even let me _talk_ to him?”

Ray shook his head, looking a bit confused himself.  Suddenly, he turned around and strode down the length of the bar.  Sansa, bewildered, followed after him.  Ray removed keys from his pocket and unlocked Sandor’s office door, flipping on the light as he went in.  Sansa stood just outside the door awkwardly, not wanting to break any rules by nosing around in his office.  Ray emerged a moment later and held up a cell phone.

Sansa gasped.  “That’s…his phone?  He doesn’t have his phone!”  She snatched it from Ray’s grasp and tried to turn it on.  It was dead.  She looked up at him helplessly.

He shrugged.  “I don’t think he keeps a charger here.  It’s been sitting in there for days, but I didn’t really think about it until you mentioned that the two of you hadn’t spoken.”

Sansa clutched his phone in her hands, wondering if he would’ve kept ignoring her if he knew she was trying to reach him.  “When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know, Sansa.  He’s got two weeks covered, but it could be more or less than that.  He has good employees, so the bar can run smoothly without him”

Sansa sighed heavily.  “So, the God’s Eye.  That’s most likely where he’s at,” she looked up and Ray gave her a sad smile and shrugged.  “That would be my guess.”

She was immediately running through what her plan needed to be.  Arya had to work tonight, but she was off tomorrow, so maybe Sansa could talk her into spending a bit more quality time with her niece.  Sansa resolved then what she had to do.

“Guess I’m taking a trip then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the last, followed by an epilogue...unless, while in editing, I add a whole bunch to it and have to split it into 2 chapters...(this has happened before). But as of now, this story should be marked as complete by the end of next week!
> 
> I'm kind of excited about it. Mostly because I have several WIPs that I'm anxious to post but refuse to until this is done, but also because I'm happy I stuck with this until the end! When I was a teenager writing fanfiction, I had a terrible habit of leaving things unfinished. It's my goal to NEVER do this now that I'm writing again.
> 
> ANYWAY, as always, thank y'all for reading this. I'm terrible at replying to comments (social *media* anxiety and what-not), but I read and appreciate every one of the comments and kudos! This story will always be my first baby, but I'm excited to move on to something else too.


	36. I didn't come up here to end things between us, you idiot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearing the air.

(Sandor)

Sandor had thought that facing Sansa after what he’d done would be unbearable, but a few days of not seeing her turned out to be brutal. In the past, a trip up to his cabin offered a place to recharge and get some peace.  But because his little bird and his little bro had left him with memories of their presence in his cabin, peace was evasive.  He lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of the empty spot next to him in his bed.  He sat on the porch swing, missing the chatter of a little blonde girl. 

At some point Sandor had found a family. He had never really had one before, at least not since his sister had passed.  He’d never thought he’d have one again and had accepted it.  But Lyanna had wormed her way into his cold heart and Sansa had may as well snatched it out of his chest.  And now, no matter how good he had been in the beginning, he had fucked up by attacking Harry. 

Sandor spent his days walking trails with Stranger, cooking impressive meals to feed one person, and working out. Sandor had a lot of pent up energy he needed to exert, so he’d run in the mornings.  In the afternoons, he would lift weights, work on resistance training, and anything else he could think of to keep his mind occupied.  He had always been in great shape, but apparently a break up was going to force him into the best shape of his life.

It was while Sandor was in the middle of a five minute plank when he heard a knock on his door. He jerked his head towards the racket, glaring at whoever was on the other side interrupting his work out.  It was rare for someone to knock on the door here, but not completely unheard of.  In the past, some of his neighbors had requested help with one thing or another, and he figured this was one such time.  The knocking came again.  He growled and ended his plank early.

“Just a second,” he called, wiping away some sweat off his chest with a towel. He hung the towel around his neck and went to open the door. 

What awaited Sandor on the other side made his jaw drop slightly.

She was bundled up in a pea coat with a scarf around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the chilly weather and her hair was down, spilling across her shoulders in auburn waves.  He couldn’t help but examine all of her, so he let his eyes roam down to the tight leggings and ankle boots.  When his eyes returned to her face, he saw that her eyes were fixed on his bare chest.  She seemed a little breathless, and under other circumstances, he might have been pleased to cause such a reaction.

Sandor didn’t know what to say to her; he just stood in the door, dumbstruck, staring at her like an idiot. He couldn’t even muster the energy to scowl at her.

Sansa cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Can I come in or are you going to turn me away?”

Snapping out of his stupor, Sandor managed a glare, which caused Sansa to flinch, making him regret it immediately. He stepped back from the door and held out an arm to indicate she could pass through.  As she passed him, he said, “I’d never turn you away, Sansa.”

Sandor shut the front door and followed her into the living room. She stood in the center with her back to him and she was fidgeting nervously.  He was clueless as to why she had shown up, couldn’t begin to imagine what she was doing all the way up here.  She turned around and held out something in her hand.

“It’s your phone,” she said. “I charged it on the way here, so maybe now when I call you, you’ll answer me.”

He plucked the phone from her hand, careful not to touch her. “Ever think that maybe I didn’t want to be reached?”

She frowned at him and said quietly, “Did you ever think that there may be people who were worried about you? You left without a word or warning.  That’s not okay.”

He snorted, shaking his head at her. “Nothing I do is okay, Sansa.  Do you want me to tell you that you were right all along?  Do you want me to say you had the right idea by backing away when I wanted more?  You already know all that.  And maybe you didn’t explicitly say you expected me to fuck it all up sooner or later, but the message was pretty clear.”

Her pretty little mouth popped open and she wrung her hands. “I…I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have assumed something bad was going to happen.  I was wrong, but you were too.  You should never have…”

“Punched Harry?” He gave a barking laugh completely absent of humor.  “Aye, Little Bird, I shouldn’t have punched your cunt of an ex-fiance.”  He stepped closer to her, invading her space.  It had always been an intimidation tactic for him.  “But you know what?  I’m not sorry.  You were afraid you’d date another brute that used people as punching bags and you were right.”

Sansa’s already rosy cheeks flooded with more color and her sky-blue eyes narrowed angrily. She bared her teeth at him as she said, “I never said you were a brute, nor do I believe that.”

He looked down at her meanly, pissed that she would soften the blow for him. “If you came here to tell me to fuck off, just do it and leave.  Why drive all this way, Sansa?  Do you want me falling to my knees telling you how sorry I am?  I’m not.  You wasted your time and gas to get up here.  I accepted everything before I ever came up here.  Don’t you think that I knew you were going to end it?  That’s why you haven’t heard from me.  You should know that.  Or did you just come here to pour salt in the wound?”

Tears swam in her eyes, but didn’t fall. She was shaking her head at him.  The words she said next through him for a loop.  “I didn’t come up here to end things between us, you idiot.”

Sandor froze, mean expression still marring his features, as Sansa’s words sunk in. He fought to keep a bewildered expression from his face, despite the fact that bewildered was what he was feeling.

He cleared his throat and straightened up a bit. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A moment before, Sansa had looked ready to cry, but his crude language ignited a spark he could see in her eyes. “I mean that I didn’t come here to break up with you.”

He stared down at her for a moment, watching her face for any small sign of a lie. He found none.  Feeling a bit sheepish despite the tense situation, he motioned toward the couch for her to sit down and he took a seat beside her.  “Why are you here then?”

Belatedly, Sandor realized that he had sat down with Sansa to his left, and because his hair was pulled back for his workout, the scars were exposed. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d cared about her seeing them.  But now, already so unsure of himself because of what had transpired in the last few days, he felt more vulnerable than ever.  Once, he’d used those scars to try to scare her; but now, Sansa knew him inside and out, and those scars only weakened him further in her presence.

Sansa’s little hand slid onto his leg. His workout shorts were thin and he could feel the warmth from her skin.  It was a struggle not to react to her touch.  When she finally spoke, her voice sounded stronger than he felt.  “You shouldn’t have left me.  Or rather, you shouldn’t have left without letting me know you were okay.  I had no idea where you’d gone.  I was worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine,” he said shortly, though he was really not.

“I’m not,” she said, still in that steady voice. “I don’t know what all this is about.  You made it sound like it was about Harry, and if it is, I’d like to talk about it.  If doing this was some kind of excuse to get away from me…well, I’ll leave and you won’t hear from me again.  But you _still_ should have told me before you left.”

Sandor’s natural reaction would be to throw her hand off his leg, growl at her that _of course_ _it was about Harry_ , and tell her to get lost.  But the monster that had been clawing away at the hole in his chest from thinking he’d lost her was a fresh memory, and so he took a moment to think about what he needed to say. _No barriers, no lies, no bullshit._

“I’m not sorry for hitting Harry,” he told her again, wanting her to understand that he didn’t regret it. His eyes slid over to her to gauge her reaction to that, but she only nodded.

“I’m not sorry you hit him either,” she said quietly. “I hate that you were arrested.  But Harry…well, I suppose he had it coming.”

He turned fully to her at that, narrowing his eyes, once again searching for a lie. “You’re okay with me hitting Harry?”

Sansa shrugged. “I slapped him before you came out.  Harry was trying to get a reaction out of you and he got what he asked for.”

He chewed on that for a moment, thinking back to his state of mind after punching Harry and before making the decision to leave without telling Sansa. He had not felt regret for hitting Harry, but the lack of regret was what made him so sure that Sansa wouldn’t forgive him.  He had toyed with the idea of apologizing, but couldn’t bring himself to lie to her.  He had never wanted to expose Sansa to any violence, no matter how mild, ever again.  The fact that he’d done just that, and not only in front of her but to her child’s father, seemed unforgiveable.

Sansa grasping at his hand pulled him away from his thoughts. He looked down at her small hand enveloped in his own, her slender white fingers interlaced with his.  He gave her fingers a squeeze and found the courage to tell her what had been going on in his head.  “I left because I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at me with disgust or disappointment or fear for what I did to him.  I remember the first time Joffrey slapped you.  The look that you gave him…” Absently, he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of it as he remembered how she’d looked that day:  hurt, betrayed, horrified.  “If you had looked at me the way you looked at him….”

“Why would I? You didn’t hit me.  Joffrey and Meryn hit me for their entertainment or some imagined offense.  I could never put you in the same category as Joffrey _ever_.  And as for hitting Harry, I told you – he deserved it.  I’m not mad at you about that at all.”

Lips still pressed against her skin, he said, “But you are mad at me?” His lips quirked up a bit at the exasperated look she gave him.

“Well, _yes_.  You left me.  It hurt.  A lot.  I’ve called you countless times.  I never thought you would just walk away like that.”

“I was fucking craven,” he told her, releasing her hand from his own. He was starting to realize what an absolute idiot he’d been.  He’d been careless and selfish.  He had ran away like a coward because he was afraid that looking in her eyes and seeing fear or disgust would hurt more than driving away without seeing her; but in making that decision, he’d hurt _her_.  “I’m sorry, Sansa.  I don’t know what else to say other than I don’t deserve you.  Put my own fears before your feelings and here we are.”  He was disgusted with himself. 

“The good news is that I forgive you,” she slid closer to him on the couch and reached for his hand again. “I’ve realized some things too – things that I wanted to tell you about before Harry showed up at my house.”

Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, praying she wouldn’t push him away. “What’s that?”

“Well, _first_ , I want to know that you still want…this, us…” Sansa trailed off and Sandor noticed the blush creeping onto her cheeks.  “Because some of your recent behavior has me a little unbalanced.”

_What the hell_ , Sandor thought as he caught her chin between his thumb and finger.  “Look at me,” he rasped.  Her eyes met his and, summoning all the courage that he had, he told her, “I’m in love with you.  I don’t want to scare you, but believe me when I say there will never anyone else, Sansa.  Whatever dumb shit I’ve done to fuck this up is on me, not you.  I ran away like a child because I didn’t want to look you in the eyes and see disgust.  I should’ve been a grown-ass man and faced you.  Leaving without a word and letting you worry is just as good a reason for you to be done with me as hitting Harry.  But I really hope you’re not done with me.”

Her hand curled around his wrist and she gave him a small smile. “As it turns out, I don’t think I’m ever going to be done with you.  You see, I came to a few realizations in our time apart.  I was just as afraid as you were.  I didn’t want to get hurt, so I tried to deny what was happening between us.  I was trying to sabotage this amazing thing we’ve got between us by assuming the worst would happen.”

“Breaking up being the worst?”

“Yes. But then I realized that whatever tragedy we might come across, I was ready to fight for us.  This could’ve been the end of us, maybe.  I could’ve used your leaving as a sign that it was over.  But I’m not ready for it to be over.  I won’t ever be ready.  I love you and I would walk through all seven hells to make this work.  And I think that if the both of us could stop being idiots, then it will definitely work.”

The short laugh that escaped him was one of relief. He pulled her into his lap, face pressed into her neck and arms around her waist.  “You’re incredible.  I’m fucking crazy about you.  All these days I haven’t seen you have been torture.”

Sansa wrapped her arms around in neck and kissed the top of his head. “Off topic, I know – and I apologize in advance – but I’ve gotta tell you, the fact that you’re sitting here shirtless is very distracting.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest and he picked his head up to look into those eyes. “I have better ways to distract you, Little Bird.”

She raised a brow as she fought to keep a smile off her face. “Is that so?  I guess you’ll have to show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that!
> 
> There will be an epilogue that will tie up some loose ends, but our babies overcame some trauma and insecurities and realized they wanted to fight for what they had <3
> 
> I can't believe I actually finished this. It took almost 5 months, but I'm ecstatic I stuck with it. I hope I can continue the pattern with my other WIPs, as well as with Things Left Unsaid. Thank you EVERYONE who has read and left a comment. It is definitely easier to keep writing with such great support.


	37. I don't need a wish.  I've got everything I want.

(A little over 2 years later)

“Where’s my other shoe?” Lyanna screeched from her bedroom

“Seven help me,” Sansa muttered, sliding her earring in. Louder, she said, “I laid out your entire outfit, Lya!  Both shoes were on your bed.”

“Not _those_ shoes,” her five-year-old appeared at the door, wearing the dress Sansa had made for her, but _not_ the shoes that had been laid out.  Instead, on one foot was a black Converse, the other was clad in only a sock.

“Lyanna, why are you not wearing the little flats I laid out?”

“These are more comfy,” she said slowly, as if it should be obvious.

 _Pick your battles_ , Sansa reminded herself.  “Fine, wear those.  At least they’re clean.”

“But where is the other one?!” Lyanna held her arms out, palms up and looked around the room as if it would suddenly appear out of thin air.

Sansa closed her eyes and willed herself to have patience. Normally, things wouldn’t get to her so easily, but it was going to be a busy day.

Sandor appeared in the doorway directly behind Lyanna. The little girl looked straight up, craning her neck back to see him.  He dangled a small shoe by its strings above her head.

“Looking for this, bro?” He didn’t quite manage to keep the smirk off his face.

Lyanna blew out a breath of relief. “ _Yes!_ Thank you, Daddy!”  She snatched the shoe from where it was dangling and scampered back through the hallway to her room.

“You don’t think I can talk her into wearing a hair bow, do you?” Sansa asked as she smoothed down the hem of her dress and stepped into her own shoes.

Sandor raised his good eyebrow, clearly wondering if she was serious. “Don’t push it,” he advised.

Sansa’s eyes swept over Sandor’s clothes. _He looks good in everything,_ she thought for the millionth time.  He was dressed simply in black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt.  He wasn’t wearing a tie, but Sansa found that asking Sandor to wear a tie was the equivalent of asking Lyanna to wear a bow in her hair.  Evidently, it physically pained him to even consider it, so she hadn’t made the suggestion.  It hardly mattered though; he looked good enough to distract her.

Sandor cleared his throat and her eyes, which had been roaming his body, snapped back up to his face. Sansa smirked at him.

“My eyes are up here, Little Bird,” he joked. “Besides, in a couple of hours, this will be all yours anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s already all mine.”

It was the first busy day in a busy week, and while Sansa was nervous that something important would be forgotten, she was also excited. As they piled into Sandor’s truck and backed out of the driveway, the “For Sale” sign with the pending sign stapled over it caught her attention.  It had been arranged, somehow, for Sandor to close on his old house on the same day that they would close on their new house across town. 

Sansa and Lyanna had moved in with Sandor around a year ago, but had decided within a few months that they wanted a bigger place. Between Lyanna, two dogs, and two adults, their little family was quickly outgrowing the small house.  And with the prospect of having more children, they knew that two bedrooms and 1200 square feet wouldn’t cut it. 

The house that they had chosen was probably bigger than what they really needed, but Sansa knew that when Sandor saw how she reacted to it, he would insist on buying it. Their new home was situated in a small subdivision just outside the city limits.  It reminded Sansa of a modern farm house with its white exterior, wrap-around porch, and metal roof.  It sat on just under an acre of land, which allowed Lyanna and the pups plenty of room to run around.  She’d immediately fallen in love with it.

Sandor pulled up at the courthouse and fussed when he saw that he’d have to put money in the meter. Sansa helped Lyanna out and then took her hand.  “You ready to become a Clegane?”

Lyanna smiled and nodded enthusiastically, then quirked a blonde eyebrow at her mom. “Are _you_?”

“Never been more ready,” Sansa answered as she led her daughter onto the sidewalk.

It took around forty five minutes for the adoption order to be signed and for the probate judge to say some words that made it official for Sansa and Sandor. Less than an hour after arriving at the courthouse, the three of them left as the Clegane family.  It was early spring, and while the air was still a bit chilly, they decided to take a walk around downtown.  Lyanna skipped alongside her dad, while Sansa reflected on how they had all gotten here.

At some point between almost screwing up their relationship and subsequently saving it, Sansa had realized that there was no one else she wanted to be with. Within a few months, she had confessed as much to Sandor and had revealed that the idea of living together and marriage was not the fear-inducing topic it had been a short time before.  There had been several conversations and repeated “are you sure” inquiries from Sandor, but eventually Sansa had vacated her rental house and moved in with him.

Harry had contacted her that summer after months without any contact, and while a part of her didn’t want to speak with him at all, something had made her pick up the phone. She was glad that she had.  Harry had told her that he just wasn’t up for the “whole dad thing”, whatever that meant.  Sansa had listened to him lament about all his lost freedom without sympathy, and when Harry had finally suggested terminating his parental rights, Sansa had jumped on it before he could back track.

Lyanna hadn’t even asked about him, which was sad in a way, but then Harry had completely abandoned her. Over the next few months after Sansa had moved in with Sandor, she watched her boyfriend go from San-more to Sandor to Daddy.  The first time that the toddler had been able to pronounce his name, Sansa noticed he looked a little sad.

“She’s growing up,” she had laughed, patting his back to comfort him.

“At least I’m still her bro,” he’d grumbled.

Weeks after that, Lyanna had transitioned to calling him Daddy and neither of them corrected her. Therefore, it was natural that the next step would be to make it official.  With Harry’s consent to terminate his rights, Sansa and Sandor had pursued adoption.  It was Lyanna who had suggested that Sansa become a Clegane too.

And why not? There had been no extended engagement or talk of a wedding, but both knew that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.  It had been an easy decision to tie the knot the same day that Lyanna’s adoption was finalized.  As they strolled through downtown, Lyanna now between them holding each of their hands, it seemed only natural that Lyanna would question their next step.

“So…when do I get little brothers and sisters?”

They both stopped in their tracks and shot shocked looks to their daughter, who giggled and then shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll be less spoiled with brothers and sisters?”  She tried to suggest.

“Doubt it,” Sandor grumbled, scooping her up into his arms. “Always with the plans, little bro.  Keeping us busy.”

Sansa laughed, but then saw something across the street that made the laughter die in her throat. She tugged on Sandor’s sleeve and pointed to a man stepping out of an expensive car.  He was headed into the law offices, likely trying to get some help for more trouble he’d been in.  Sandor’s eyes narrowed when he saw the small man disappear into the building.

“Baelish,” he growled.

Sansa nodded and steered them around to head back the other way. She didn’t want there to be any chance of running into him, even though he’d likely be visiting with his attorney for a while.  Several months after Sansa had quit her job, another student worker made a report to the university about Petyr Baelish’s inappropriate touching.  When Baelish’s former secretary, who had left sometime after Sansa had quit, backed up the claims, Baelish was suspended.

As the months wore on, two more girls had come forward and Sansa soon joined them, reporting that Baelish had been inappropriate with her as well. He was promptly fired, and while the girls had declined to press charges, the reports of his behavior served its purpose.  Baelish had been in trouble ever since then.  He’d opened an accounting firm after being booted from the university and it had recently been published by the local media that his shady business practices had come under scrutiny.

“One more snake I care nothing about seeing ever again,” Sansa said quietly as they stopped to let Lyanna make a wish by throwing some change in a fountain.

“I need something bigger than a penny, Daddy,” she told Sandor, holding out her hand. “The wish fairies won’t be impressed with a penny when they hear my wish.”

Sandor grumbled a bit good-naturedly and passed Lyanna a silver coin. She stood there for a moment, wishing to herself, then tossed the coin to the center of the fountain.  Sansa knew better than to ask what she’d wished for, lest she get told off about how wishes only worked if kept private.  Lyanna sat at the edge of the little pool, dragging her finger over the surface.

Sandor’s arm came around Sansa’s shoulder and he pulled her close, his lips pressed against her temple. He held up another silver coin in his hand, and she looked up at him in confusion.

“You want to make a wish too, Little Bird? I know how you are about all this romantic and magical bullshit.”

She elbowed him in the ribs at the same time Lyanna screeched, “Language, Daddy!”

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t need a wish.  I’ve got everything I want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! I've loved writing this story, but I also REALLY like wrapping it up (finally!), and I can't believe I managed to do it in about 5 months (well, 6 months of writing, but still...)
> 
> Thank everyone again who has chosen to read my little SanSan tale. I appreciate it so much!


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